Let the World Stand Still
by T.H.W
Summary: Bright Eyes has lived with the Newsies in Manhattan since she was a child. She came from Brooklyn but needed a change of scene. But now she's caught in a deadly game of cat and mouse when Mr. Weisel decides to take his revenge out on the Newsies, with the
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"Let The World Stand Still"  
  
  
The sun rose slowly over Manhattan. As it began its ascent, it flashed in on the window of a slightly crumpled building. Mr. Weisel, known formerly as the Weasel to the Newsies, sat by that window thinking. It ain't fair. It really ain't. "I had always been honest. Just because those stupid kids decide that they don't like the price of papes doesn't mean that they have to put me out of a job." Weasel mumbled, irritated. Since the Newsie's strike a year ago, Weasel had gotten a lousy job at a pencil factory. Feeding the pieces of wood that would soon be pencils into the shaving machines was not a well paying job. Especially since he couldn't stick any of it in his pocket.  
Off to the side, Oscar and Morris Delancy lay across their beds snoring to kingdom come. Lately the only job Oscar and Morris had been able to get was sending messages and packages back and forth between the two pencil factories, one in Manhattan and the other in Brooklyn. The other job the two didn't get paid for was taking the occasional swing at some lone kid walking down the street, usually a newsie.   
Revenge. Revenge was what the Delancy brothers lived for. They used it even for the smallest things. The newsies had been and still were their prime target, even though they usually came out of a fight having lost. Mostly, they would run in with the leader of Manhattan's Newsies, Jack Kelly, also known to the boys as Cowboy. Jack Kelly was a smart one. "Smart in brains and mouth." Weasel thought.  
Weasel also liked to take revenge, just not physically like the Delancys. He liked to take his revenge mentally. Hitting the prey where it hurts. Right now, Weasel wanted revenge. His life had been fine, but was ruined in a few minutes by the newsies who had caused him so much trouble over the years. He had secretly been plotting his revenge ever since a twelve year old chestnut haired, sparkly brown eyed kid named Jack Kelly started calling him "Mr. Weasel" causing his whole gang to burst out laughing, leaving Weasel to fume.  
Weasel's only problem was that the Newsies had no weak spots. Sure he could make a way that he could get a hold on some of the Newsies, but their comrades would quickly make do with that. Breaking and entering was a prime skill among them. Even if he got the bulls to take attention to them, it wouldn't matter. It would still be the same situation. They would break in, get their pal to freedom, then skidattle. He couldn't rightly take anything from them, because they had nothing. Nothing of value to him at least. There had to be a way to get them, all of the Newsies to come to him so he could make short work of them. The Delancys would help of course. But what would it take to get them to come?  
Perhaps he was looking in the wrong area, Weasel thought. Maybe, it isn't things I should be worried about taking, but people. But he came to the same problem again. Breaking and entering and the newsie would escape with the rest of his friends. Wait a minute. His friends. Weasel smiled. The solution had been staring him in the face the whole time. He would need higher help, but he could get that. What he needed what something the Newsies cherished as their own, something that they truly cared about. That every newsie in New York cared and knew about. Yes, she was the answer to carrying out his revenge.  
  
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Somewhere in another part of the city, the sun was also rising on a tall building with the sign in front of it that read: NEWSBOYS LODGING HOUSE. The old man climbed the stairs one by one, entering the large spacious room as he had done for years. He stood for a minute in the doorway, taking in the sounds of the room. Snoring, snapping fingers, moaning, and sighing. "Amazing how all these sounds can come from boys! Never heard 'em do it consciously thats for sure!" he murmured. Then the old man took a deep breath and began to yell. "ALL RIGHT GET UP! SELL THE PAPES! SELL THE PAPES! GET UP YA LAZY BUMS! YOU'D SLEEP YOUR LIVES AWAY IF YOU GOT THE CHANCE! C'MON! UP UP UP! THE PRESSES ARE ROLLIN'! THE INK IS WET! C'MON GET UP!"   
Most of the boy's heads shot up at Kloppman's yells. But others were either too lost in their dreams, or had maxed his voice out of their sleepy minds. Kloppman performed his routine, walking round the room, pulling feet, slapping faces and the like. Boy's protesting voices were now issuing over the gloom. Insisting voices, stating that it couldn't be time to sell papes because they had just fallen asleep, or that the old man forgot to set the clock alarm correctly again. But despite the protests, the old man laughed and went on with his duties.  
Racetrack's head slowly sagged up at Kloppman's bugle call, then plopped back down on his pillow. "Its too eaily for dis! I shoulda gone outside ta sleep. Leastways I could rest a little longa. Wish the old mana shud up! Too eaily!" Despite his grumbling against Kloppman, there was nothing but respect from Racetrack to the old man. He'd woken him up more than one morning, securing for him his and everyone else's job. As he pulled on his suspenders, Racetrack suddenly stopped, then cautiously picked up his cup sitting next to his bedside and looked under. A Cuban cigar still rested where he had placed it the night before. "Tank Gawd the kid didn't get at it! I woulda had ta kill 'im, no madda what Cowboy said." said Racetrack glaring at the still sleeping form of Snipeshooter.  
Racetrack sighed as he pulled on the rest of his clothing. He checked in the top bunk across from his and looked for some sign from Cowboy. Nope, still sleepin'. But neva mind, Kloppman will soon take care of dat. Racetrack pulled on his shoes then clomped noisily over to a door near the stairwell. He then leaned up against the wall and took note of the time. Five minutes passed and Racetrack straightened, leaned against the door, and called softly, " Oh yer majesty? My lady, has da bugle awakened ya slumba?" A sleepy voice resounded in the depths of the room. "Shet up will ya Race! I'm almost ready. I'm not dead, ner deaf." "Tank Gawd fer dat." Racetrack murmured.  
Soon afterwards, a girl dressed in boy's clothes stepped out, donning a cap on her shoulder length curly brown hair. Racetrack laughed and bowed. " Might I do ya da hona of escortin' ya's to da washing hole?" The girl's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Nice Race. Bedda dan yesterdays! Is everyone decent? Don't wanna come out if dats not taken care of!" "Aw, every one's up. Da ol' man took cara dat! Neva seen ol' Kloppman not do his duty, 'ave ya Bright Eyes?" Racetrack said. Bright Eyes laughed. "No can't say dat I have. Well, whatcha standin' around 'ere fer? 'Scort me!" Racetrack mock bowed and offered her his arm. She gave him a curtsy and took it, walking merrily toward the sinks and water where other Newsies had already gathered.  
As Racetrack walked the girl over to the sinks, he thought about her, how she had come to be there, and the name that he had given to her. Bright Eyes had come to them from Brooklyn, home to one of the best Newsies in all of New York, the infamous Spot Conlon. In fact the girl had known Spot, who taught her how to be a Newsie, which was a great honor for anyone, boy or girl. Normally any other person would've stayed in Brooklyn with Spot, but Brighty was different. She wanted to see other places besides Brooklyn and meet other people. She had heard Spot talk about his friend Jack Kelly, and she had sought him out to join his group of Newsies. She had come to them rather explosively, running down the street screaming Jack's name over and over. Following her furiously, were the Delancy brothers, Oscar with his lip bleeding, Morris with a swelling black eye. They had messed with her on her way, and she was obliged to land Oscar with a right hook. While Oscar lay against the wall dazed, Morris took up the fight where he had left off, but was soon on the ground with a black eye. Bright Eyes then ran for her life, which Jack gladly saved for her by throwing the Delancys out.   
After she had explained why she had come, the boys decided that they had to name her, but first, what was her given name? "Annie." the girl said, taking deep breaths. The boys then threw names back and forth at each other: "Guts" "Angel Face", "Cutie", "Slammer", "Flames", "Pixie," and on and on. Racetrack had been silent this whole time, and he had been watching her from the moment she made her entrance. He was fascinated by her eyes, bright blue things that lit up and sparkled with gladness and her anger with the Delancys. Kinda like candles. He thought.  
So when he all of a sudden spoke up, everyone was silent. "How 'bout, Bright Eyes?" Everyone looked at him then back at the girl. The girl smiled at Racetrack. She had disliked most of the names, and this was the first one that really suited her. Jack spoke first. "Yeah, Bright Eyes. How bout it boys? Ya like dat Annie?" "Yeah!" she said happily "Den Bright Eyes it is! Let 'ere it for 'er huh!" After much applause, Annie a.k.a. Bright Eyes was introduced to the Newsies and her new life.   
The more Race thought about her, the more his face flushed pink. I dunno if I likes 'er or what. Racetrack thought. He knew a couple of boys, Newsies, who liked Bright. There was just something about this girl Newsie from Brooklyn that had caught nearly every boy's eye, and when one said everyone, thats what he meant. They ranged from weak and puny to the strong and renowned. David, the Walking Mouth, had a small crush on her he knew, and a couple other boys, some from Brooklyn and one from West Side who Bright Eyes met at the rally.   
Then there was Spot Conlon. He didn't have a crush on her yet, Race thought. For now there was nothing but respect for Bright Eyes from the Brooklyn Newsie. But if he decided he liked her, "Whoooo boy." Race muttered. "Can't compete wit Spot, not even if I wanted ta." But he still had to sort out his mixed up feelings before he could decide if he even wanted to compete with the most famous Newsie in Brooklyn, and as David put it, "probably in all of New York" which was not an exaggeration.  
"Whoa Race! We's hea!" Bright Eyes laughed as the two collided into the sinks. Racetrack blushed. "Sorry me lady! The carriage bolts came loose an' I couldn't stop!" Bright Eyes laughed. Then her eyes fell upon a still drowsy Snipeshooter, lifting up a pitcher of water with which to wash himself. Bright Eyes winked at Racetrack, then slowly but surely grasped the handle of the pitcher and quickly dumped some water on Snipeshooter's head then poured some for herself. Racetrack doubled over laughing, watching a spluttering Snipeshooter looking up and down for the culprit, while Bright Eyes vigorously washed her face.   
As the other boys caught on at what was happening, spurts of laughter began to erupt. "Nice, Bright Eyes." Jack commented as he stared at the mirror, carefully shaving his face. "Gonna see Sarah teday I bet." Kid Blink whispered to Mush, as he wiped his face. Then Kid Blink felt a bump against his leg and looked down. There was one of the smaller boys, Flick, who's face was covered in water. His eyes were screwed shut to prevent the spread of water from going into his eyes. "Towel please! Towel plllleeeeeaaaasssseee!!" "Calm down kid!" Kid laughed as he swiped the boy's face with a towel. Flick then slowly opened his eyes, made sure that his eyes were out of danger, then skipped off.   
As Bright Eyes washed, she was bombarded with questions and requests like every morning. "Hey Bright, I saw this really cute goil de odder day. Do ya tink ya could, I dunno give me some pointas?" "Dunno Mush depends on da goil, I told ya dat a million times." came the answer. "Hey Bright, go to da track wit' me again teday? We scored big last time when you picked da horse." "I'll see whats goin' on teday Race." "Hey Brighty, is my hair stickin' up right here?" "Nope Skittery, ya look fine." One by one, almost every Newsie in the joint had asked either for or about something. Bright Eyes answered every one of them, because to her it was routine to be a mother for about 15 minutes of her day.   
Finally the whole bunch of boys and one girl were ready for their day. Joking and laughing, the group headed to the pay spot, to collect their papes. Mr. Fussy, was anything but what his name implied, and didn't mind his almost immediate nickname, "the Fuss." Bright Eyes still contemplating some of the requests from the morning, did not notice when her turn arrived to place her order. Did she want to do a full day, or cut it short and go to the track with Race? "Ahem." Bright Eyes jumped, making the boys around her laugh. "Hey, keep it down in the back row huh!" she yelled. "Hiya Fuss."   
"Hiya. Whatcha thinkin about? A boy?" Bright eyes flushed red as the boys around her began to cat call. "She's certainly got a good selection doesn't she Fuss!" "I wonder who it could be?" "Ahhhhhh shat up!!!" Bright Eyes yelled.   
Bright Eyes glanced at the old man, who was struggling to keep his composure, and failing miserably. "Now why'd ya have ta do dat Fuss? Huh?" The old man shook his head. "Couldn't resist Bright. Now what will it be?" Bright Eyes thought again for a moment, then slapped her money on the counter. " 50 papes Fuss. Gotta short day teday." "Oh, whatcha gonna do? Try and get a hot tip again with Race?" Fuss asked as he counted her papers out carefully, unlike his predecessor, Mr. Wiesel. "Yeah actually. I tink I will. Thanks Fuss." "Don't mention it. Next up!!"   
Bright Eyes walked a few steps, then plopped herself next to Racetrack, who was reading the paper, getting ideas for the headlines. As she sat down, he turned to her. "So ya's goin wit me to da track?"   
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well good, I was kinda hopin ya would, I mean," Racetrack faltered, then shrugged and tried not to let the girl know his feelings. "Well I'll meet ya at da Greely statue when ya's done 'kay. Try to make it by three."   
"All right." said Bright Eyes as she looked into Racetrack's face, trying to understand his sudden faltering epidemic that had developed in the past couple of weeks. Suddenly Racetrack jumped up. "Well best get goin' den. Times a wastin', and plus I wanna see if I can get a few bets goin among da boys teday, before we go." Bright Eyes laughed as the small figure of the boy walked away, stopping to talk to friends along the way. "You ready to sell the papes?" David's voice coming from behind her, startled Bright Eyes so that she jumped. "Gee whiz Mouth, da least ya could do is give me some warnin that yer loose!" David blushed. "Well whatcha waitin fer Davey, lets get sellin!" Bright Eyes jumped up and walked toward her selling spot followed closely by David.   
"Whole family destroyed by fire! Everyone dead! Fire loose in home! Thank ya lady! Individual falls off of da very top a da Brooklyn Bridge! Much obliged sir! Thank ya!" Bright Eyes yelled as people swarmed to her to read the non-existent headline. David stared at her skeptically. "Whats the story behind that?" Bright Eyes looked over at him. "Oh nuthin' much, some sick sea gull or albatross, and anyway," David stared at Bright Eyes. "Albatross? It couldn't be! Do you know how big those things are? And plus they usually live," The girl glared at David. "Please Davey, get a grip! No need ta show off da schoolin I neva got!" David put his head down. He had failed in another chance to gain Bright Eyes' attention.   
"Now, let me finish. The boid was so sick that afta it flew ta da top of da ol' Brooklyn Bridge, it died and fell ova the edge of da bridge." David looked at her incredulously. "I still don't know where you guys get some of the ideas for your headlines." Bright Eyes shrugged and continued her selling, David right beside her. One o'clock rolled around and Bright Eyes' fifty papes were gone. David, having been bold and gotten one hundred, was still selling. "Bright Eyes, what are you going to do now?" David asked a little nervously. Bright Eyes looked at him curiously. "I tink I'm gonna go an' walk around befoa I go ta da track wit' Race. Why?" David shrugged. "Just curious. Bye." Bright Eyes waved at David, then began walking toward the Brooklyn Bridge.  
You stupid idiot! You let her go again! I was so close to asking her to go to Tibby's with me! I must have looked like a loon! David's brain murmured over and over again. He watched her as she made her way into the suburbs of Brooklyn as she always did when she had a short day. Once David had asked her why she continued to go, if she wasn't a Newsie there anymore. Bright Eyes had grinned at him and said, " I still gots friends dere too Davey. Bein' a Newsie here don't change dat!" He still wished that he could grab her attention some how. Maybe Sarah was right.   
His sister Sarah had advised him against trying to attract the attention of the former Brooklyn Newsie. "She's nothing but trouble David. Please don't get involved with her! You should know why I'm asking you this. You have seen Spot Conlon in action! I just don't want you to get hurt Davey!" David had shrugged off her advise and ignored it. He liked her a lot, and it hurt. She didn't give him a second glance, nor even the time of day. Maybe he should just ignore his feelings. Anyhow he couldn't think about it now. There were papers to sell. With a sigh, David began to call out his headlines.  
Bright Eyes walked down the brick roads leading to the harbor, looking for the familiar places and hideouts of her childhood. Yeah, dere's da ol' alley where me an Spot would play wit' Jacks. Heh, always full o' fun dat Jacks. Its a pity dat he, had ta die like dat. Geez, so much fer happy memries. An dere's da sewer grate where Spot would drop down rocks an' we would try an hea the "splunk" when it hit da wata. Dere's Slingshot Way. I 'memba when me an' all da udda Newsies would go dere so dat we could brush up on our slingshottin'. Always full o' beer bottles to practice wit dats why.   
Den when we gots tired of dat, Spot would grin and den pick up a beer bottle, pretend ta swig some of it and be drunk. He would hobble around puttin' everyone in gales of laughta, sayin', "Scuse me, hic! I seems ta be lost. hic. Can ya's point me in da direction of da bar? Or maybe me 'ome would be betta. Naw, da bar. Point me in da way of da bar goilie, an' be quick about it! Fore I smacks ya, if'n I can find ya!" Dat was a while ago. Man, sometimes, I wish childhood coulda lasted fereva.  
"STOP YOU! STOP I SAY! BOY STOP!" The voice boomed from directly behind Bright Eyes, startling her. Being called a boy didn't bother Bright Eyes. That was what she wanted, to be mistaken for a boy, but what she didn't want was a bull chasing her, even if she didn't know the reason why. She began to run, tripping over garbage that had gathered in the slum. She turned the corner quickly and ran into something so hard it caused her to fall down. The thing she had run into spoke drowsily as he lay on the ground. "Where are ya? I'm gonna soak ya when I gets up! Just ya wait! Don't even try ta run, cause I'll find ya!"   
A boy slowly stood up, clad in a blue cap covering strands of blonde brown hair, red suspenders covering a dirty blue checked shirt, and soiled pants whose belt loop held a cane with gold foil covering the ends. A silver key hung around his grubby neck. Bright Eyes sat up as the boy put up his fists in a fighting position, gray blue eyes blazing. But as she stared at him, the eyes cleared, and recognition began to form. "Bright Eyes. Neva woulda 'spected ya! If ya were any udda boy I'da soaked ya good fer gettin me caught!" As he said this, the Newsie helped Bright Eyes up. "Nice ta see ya Conlon. I was kinda hopin' I'd run inta ya! Only jest not litrally!" As Bright Eyes spoke, the two heard the policemen yelling only a block away.   
"C'mon Bright, its gonna be just like ol' times eh!" Spot grabbed her hand and the two jumped behind two crates and crouched, waiting for the bulls to pass. After a short time, three policemen ran by the crates and stopped. "I know he passed this way Jim." said one as they looked around the premises. "I know, but he's gone disappeared again. Like usual." said the other man, as he looked up into the sky, almost expecting to see the Newsie flying among the birds there. "Lets give it up boys, 'taint no use lookin fer somethin that ain't there." The three then turned and walked away, still looking down alley ways and passages as they went.  
"Well, dat was easy." Spot said as he helped Bright Eyes over the crates. "So, what brings ya back ta Brooklyn so soon? Ya jest came last week ya know." Bright Eyes shrugged and looked around. " Well, I dunno. I just seem ta end up back 'ere whenever I gets da time. Ta get memries an' stuff." Spot rolled his eyes incredulously. " Whaddya want dose annoyin' tings fer? Nothin' but troubles memries are! Plus, I don't tink dat one Newsie can have tons o'happy memries!" Bright Eyes shrugged. "There's a couple Spot, if you would try an' rememba." Spot looked away from Bright Eyes' pleading face.   
"Well anyway, would ya like an ol' friend ta take ya ta lunch somewheres? An' den to see some of da boys? They'd be glad ta see ya." Bright Eyes' head shot up. "Depends on da time. What time is it Spot?" Spot squinted up at the clock tower just above Brooklyn. "Ummm. Two forty five why?" "Cause I'm goin to da track wit' Race teday at three, an' I don't wanna be late! Yer an angel Spot! See ya soon!" With that, Bright Eyes took off toward the Greely statue in Manhattan, leaving Spot staring after her and smiling. "Always on da move dat kid." he said with a reminiscent smile. Then Spot Conlon went his own way, back to his city.  
Ever since he had met the girl when she was 5 and he was 6, Spot had had a soft spot for Bright Eyes. He didn't know why, he didn't take likings to people easily, especially when it was a girl as well. He didn't trust people as readily as some boys. Maybe it was because they had seemed just like brother and sister, both lost and alone at the same time, both confused about why they were stuck in such unfortunate circumstances. They had stuck together for a long time, earning them the title, "the twins." Namely because they ate together, sold papes together, and Spot having insisted, their beds were right next to each other in case one or the other woke up scared, and relief would be a step away.   
But Bright Eyes had always been flighty, and it got worse as she got older. She started taking walks by herself, sometimes not coming home till late into the night. In the meantime Spot, who at the time was gradually making his claim to fame with his papes, would become both worried and furious all at the same time. Spot got so worried sometimes, that the minute Bright Eyes stepped into the door, he let her have it. But after he was done ranting and raving about how worried he had been, how she couldn't wander anymore, and that he wanted her to go straight to bed, Bright Eyes would come up to him, kiss him on the cheek and say good night, not another word said. "Yep, flightiest ting I eva did see." Spot murmured.   
In a way, Spot blamed himself for Bright Eyes leaving the Brooklyn Newsies, secretly of course. It wouldn't do for the "Key" to feel guilty about something so trivial. Newsies moved all the time. "But not every Newsie. She was a special Newsie." Spot said as he kicked a can that had fallen in his way. He had made it up to himself by promising to hurt the person who did anything to Bright Eyes, be it the Delancys or any other person, a bull or Newsie. "Call it extreme, but I don't care." Spot said emphasizing his words as he kicked a stone into a gutter. "She's like me sista." He mumbled as an extra thought. "Heya Spot! Where ya been? We've been lookin for ya's!" A group of Brooklyn Newsies, Red, Jinx, and Freckles waited for Spot on the next curb. Spot had friends, and he very well wasn't gonna let Bright Eyes ruin his afternoon. "Heya boys, how bouta game a poka!" The four boys then took off down the street laughing happily.  
Racetrack watched the time on the clock mounted by the Greely statue. It was 2:50. Bright would be there any second, then they could head off to the tracks. To prepare for his day at the races, Racetrack had, in the last half hour, gambled off of other Newsies two dollars and forty five cents. He would also gamble with more boys at the track. Plus with his savings, he had plenty with which to gamble on the horses. 2:55. Where could she be? Racetrack waited a few more minutes, then checked his watch again and puffed his cigar. 2:59. One more minute passed and the clock tower chimed three times heralding the third hour's coming. Racetrack looked down the road one way, the another road going another way. When he peered down the road that most people took to get to Brooklyn, he saw a small figure approaching at a fast pace.  
"Hey Bright Eyes! Where ya been? Been waitin' for ya's. Already got some good bets in me pockets!" Racetrack said shaking his pockets as Bright Eyes ran up. "Sorry Race. I got a little sidetracked." Racetrack raised his eyebrow. "Let me guess, you was attacked by da Delancys. No dat can't be it you ain't hoit. Hmmm. An extremely long carriage crossed da street before ya's? Nope, no carriage is very long, lessen its a train. Ya got run ova by a fruit stand? Naw, dose people are careful wit' dere carts. Well that excludes da maja stuff. So what happened to ya Bright?" Racetrack ended, with a grin on his face. Bright Eyes took her hands off her hips where they had been resting a moment before. "If ya's must know, I went ta Brooklyn for a bit and lost track of da time." Racetrack took his watch out of his pocket again and commented. "Speakin of which, dis time is wastin, and da races begin at three thoity. Les get rollin!" The two then began to run toward the Sheepshead, where the races were preparing their beginning.  
"Hey scuse me! Comin tru! Scuse me please!!" Racetrack yelled as he pushed his way to the betting office, his hand wrapped around Bright Eyes' in a death grip, lest she be lost in the crowd. "Mornin' yer hona!" Racetrack said to the employee in charge of the booth that day. "How much sir?" the man asked in a citified manner. Racetrack sat still for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Sir! Please! Les see. I wanna put bets on, hmmm." Racetrack and Bright Eyes both observed the list of horses. "Gutbuster, Jasmine, Whitey, Andromeda, Coyness. Man, dese people were at a loss fer names when dey got dese 'orses!" Race whispered quietly.   
"Lovefound, Race." Bright Eyes whispered in his ear. "Ya sure?" he whispered. Bright nodded. "Just a feeling in my gut." Racetrack nodded, then turned back to the booth. "We'll bet five fifty for Lovefound." "Five fifty it is. Are you sure you want to go with Lovefound? She just got back on the track." Racetrack turned to Bright Eyes, then turned back. " I said Lovefound an dats what I means!" Racetrack said, determinedly. The man threw his hands in the air. "Whatever. Ain't my money." "Darn right it ain't!" Racetrack muttered. He then took his ticket and Bright Eyes and walked toward the rows of seats.  
Racetrack picked seats where they could both get a good view of the horses. "Are ya sure we did da right ting Bright? Da guy said dat she jus' got back on da track." Racetrack asked doubtfully. Bright Eyes shook her head. "I dunno Race. I just felt it. That dat was da one dat would win, ya know?" Racetrack turned away and lit a cigarette, and offered one to Bright Eyes, who took it thankfully. "Yeah I guess I felt dat befoa. Neva helped me wit' da races though." As he spoke, the last call for bets was announced and the list of horses was called out to the eager audience. Five more minutes till the race started.   
Racetrack sighed and blew a puff of smoke out of his mouth. Waiting was always the hardest thing about the races. Wondering if he was going to win or lose. Next to him, Bright Eyes pulled an item out of her pocket. He looked over and saw Bright Eyes fingering her prized possession, a slingshot given to her by Spot when they were younger. Spot had taught her how to use it and she had conquered many scabs with her weapon. "Still miss 'im don't ya Bright?" Bright Eyes sighed, then looked into Racetrack's face. "Yeah, I do. Sometimes, I wonda why I even left. And sometimes, I wonda, if maybe I hoit Spot a little by goin' away." Race laughed. "Brighty, I don't tink ya could hoit that guy by hittin 'im wit an iron pole. But it is a possibility, he is human ya know." Racetrack pointed out. Bright sighed and slipped the slingshot back in her pocket. "I guess so."  
Right then, the horses began to line up for the race. Both Racetrack and Bright Eyes stood up to get a better view. "Lovefound is numba 8 Bright," Racetrack said. "Memba dat." Bright Eyes nodded. Then the gunshot banged loudly causing the horses to run and Racetrack to jump up into the air and wave his hat. "Git goin' ya ol nag! C'mon Lovefound! Win fer good ol' Race!" Racetrack yelled. The air was filled with the sounds of excitement all around the stadium. Shouts of people's favorite horses were yelled. All of a sudden the audience erupted into cheers. Lovefound had taken over Sunburst, the track favorite, and was now completing the first lap in first! Racetrack was ecstatic. "All she needs ta do is do dat for da last two laps and we gots ourselves some cold hard cash Bright!"  
The second lap was completed, with Lovefound in first. As the third lap began, Racetrack grabbed Bright Eyes' hand and squeezed it. She looked at him curiously. He looked down at his hand blushed, and then looked back down at the track, beginning to wave his hat in the air again. But all of a sudden, ten yards from the finish line, Lovefound stumbled and lost first, stumbling into fifth place. Racetrack moaned and this time it was Bright Eyes who took Racetrack's hand, who didn't look down this time. Lovefound was struggling it was clear. But all of a sudden on a second burst of energy, she began to run as she had never run before, passing fourth, third, and second in a flurry of speed.   
Neck in neck with Sunburst the two traveled down the home stretch, each looking for an advantage, hooves flying. Three yards from the finish line, Sunburst stumbled, allowing Lovefound to take the lead, who passed triumphantly across the white finish line. Racetrack and Bright Eyes both yelled and screamed with joy. Racetrack grabbed Bright Eyes in a fierce embrace as the crowd erupted with shouts. Then Racetrack suddenly leaned toward Bright Eyes' face, but stopped himself before his lips could touch hers. She looked at him, and he looked at her, and both knew what the other was thinking. Racetrack slowly took her hand. "C'mon Bright. Lets go collect our winnin's."   
  
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Meanwhile Jack Kelly a.k.a Cowboy, had finished selling his papes. He now intended to see someone, a certain Sarah Jacobs, David's sister. The two had gradually fallen in love with each other during the strike last year, but now Jack sensed that the thing that had formerly been there between them, was gone. Jack had never broken up with anyone before. He had never really had a real girlfriend before either, but there was a first time for everything. Jack decided that it was best if there was no pomp or anything, just something quick and quiet. He didn't like seeing people get hurt, but this was something he had to do.  
Jack felt like he was being dishonest by not telling Sarah the way he had felt before. Jack felt like he had when he thought about going to Santa Fe, New Mexico, like a jerk, a person who deserves no respect from his friends. He almost thought about chickening out. " No can't do dat. I already told Sarah dat I wanted ta see 'er. But I don't tink I can do dis." Jack gulped as he stood outside the Jacobs' front door. "Well here goes nothin'."   
He knocked on the door and almost immediately, Sarah opened the door. "Oh Jack, I'm so glad that you came! Mamma and Papa went out, and Les is spending the night at the Lodging House, so we have the whole place to ourselves!" Sarah bubbled. Jack cleared his throat as he walked through the door, gazing at the beaming Sarah. "How was work today Jack?" Sarah asked as the two sat down at the table. Jack shrugged. "O.k. I guess. I'm a little tired but, dats all part of da job." Sarah rolled her eyes. "Jack I wish you would quit being a Newsie, you and David. You work too hard, and I don't like it."   
Jack sighed. Here we go again, he thought. Time to break the ice now that the time was right. "Sarah, I have ta tell ya somethin' dats not gonna be very pleasant for ya's." Sarah looked surprised at being interrupted in the middle of her complaints. "Really Jack? What is it? Something really bad?" Jack gulped and pulled at his collar as he spoke. "Sarah, I don't tink dat you an I are really, meant for each udda. Ya know what I'm sayin'?" Sarah sat in stunned silence, so Jack went on. "I dunno it just seems like everytin' we had at da beginnin' of da strike was different afta da strike was ova." Sarah finally spoke up. "How can you think that about me? That is so ungrateful, after all the love I gave to you!"   
Jack began to get angry and stood up, towering over Sarah in the process. "What love Sarah? We kissed at da end of da strike! Whoopee do da day! Kissin' doensn't make a relationship Sarah! What do we got Sarah? Name me one ting!" Sarah stood up as well, and her voice trembled as she spoke. "We have each other Jack." Jack sighed. "Sarah, just cos we gots each udda doesn't mean dat we're happy wit' each udda. And I'm not. It seems dat all ya's do is gripe about me clothes, me job, and even me friends. And when we kiss, it feels like I'm stealin' somethin' Sarah! Thats a big sign dat we don't need each udda." Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "Go then! Just go! I don't need you! Get out of here, NEWSIE! Go back to your dear friends who care for you so much! GO!" Then she ran out of the room sobbing. "Well dat went well." Jack murmured softly as he walked out the door into the fading twilight.  
  
  
  



	2. 

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Racetrack and Bright Eyes sat outside the race tracks hanging around till every person who had made a bet with Race, had paid his dues. By that time, twilight was coming and with it, huge storm clouds. Racetrack sat on the park bench counting his money. "Well dats da last of it! Can't believe it Bright! Its da foist time I've won in a long time! And look at da cold hard cash! Huh Huh!" Racetrack said as he held the money in Bright Eyes' face. "O.k. Race o.k.! I get it! We're rich now!" she laughed. Racetrack's eyes softened. "Tanks fer comin' Bright." "No problem." She answered. The two looked into each others eyes, dark brown ones into dark blue ones.  
Suddenly a raindrop spattered on Racetrack's nose, then another fell on Bright Eyes' cheek, then a torrent began to fall from the heavens, engulfing the two in rain. "Hurry up Bright! Lessen yer wantin' ta get all wet!" Racetrack laughed. There was a wild scramble for the money on the bench as the torrent grew stronger and stronger. Then Racetrack grabbed Bright's hand and they rushed to a nearby alley, laughing and yelling. The two entered the alley, sopping wet laughing at each other's wet beings. Then Bright Eyes stopped laughing and gazed at Racetrack, who in turn did the same. Bright Eyes then reached for Racetrack, and their lips locked gently. Rain leaked into the alley falling on the already wet twosome, but they didn't mind. Racetrack and Bright Eyes had waited for this moment for years. They just stood there holding each other gently in the dark, just letting the world stand still.  
  
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At the Newsie lodge, the rest of the gang sat inside playing poker and listening to the rain. They had been sitting there for two hours waiting for Jack, Racetrack and Bright Eyes to come back. The boys were nervous. It wasn't like them all to be out late at the same time. "Meybe, we should go an look for 'em." Kid Blink suggested. The boys looked at each other. The way things were going that didn't sound like such a bad suggestion right about now. "I'll go witcha Kid." Mush said sitting up from his card game and pulling on his shoes. Snipeshooter, Snitch and Skittery also agreed to go with Kid Blink and Mush. But as they opened the door to begin their search, Jack ran in soaking wet.  
The boys just stared at Jack for a minute, then the whole lot of them began to laugh and hand over towels to Jack. Jack accepted them gratefully. Then he scanned the crowd and frowned. "Hey Blink, why are you runnin' the poka games tenight? Race not feelin' up to it or somethin'?" The boys looked at each other uncomfortably. "Well," Kid Blink began. Les who had been sitting in the corner with Flick spoke up suddenly. "Racetrack and Bright Eyes haven't come back yet Jack. We haven't seen 'em since they left for the races this afternoon." Jack looked around at the former search party. "Dat what you was goin' out dere for? Ta look fer me, Race and Bright?" The boys nodded. "Well den, count me in. It ain't right for dem ta be out so late. Dey mighta got mixed wit some unpleasant company."  
They came in so quietly that when Racetrack spoke, everyone, including Jack, jumped. "Hiya boys!" Everyone turned to the doorway and saw Racetrack and Bright Eyes. Both of them were soaked to the bone, but what was peculiar to the boys was they both looked unusually happy and warm. Jack laughed. "All right what are ya hidin' Race?" Racetrack blushed and shrugged. "Oh nothin', just tons o' buckage from da races dat we won!" The boys all crowded around Racetrack with shrieks of insistence to see the proof. "Hey! I'd like some clothes guys!" All the boys turned to Bright Eyes and laughed as they got numerous articles of clothing from their own stash. She took it and walked quickly to her room to change.   
During all the hubbub, Jack managed to get Race out of the room so that he could talk to him. "So whats goin' on Race?" Racetrack shrugged. "I dunno whatcha talkin' about Cowboy." "Really? Den why are you an Bright so, I dunno glowy and happy, huh?" Racetrack's face, Jack noticed, went a tad pink whenever Bright Eyes' name was mentioned. "Its somethin' about Bright Eyes ain't it?" Before Racetrack could answer, Kloppman yelled up the stairs, "Some folks are tryin' ta sleep before tomorra so unless one of ya's is wantin' a red bottom, I suggest that you boys go to BED!"   
At that, the chattering in the boy's room went quiet and squeaks from the beds were heard in succession. Racetrack turned toward the room. "Betta get goin' Cowboy. 'Fore ol' Kloppman kills me." "Race," At the sound of his name, Racetrack turned to Jack. "Race, I jest ain't used ta ya not tellin' me stuff, dats all. Maybe sometime?" Racetrack's face softened and eased a little. "Yeah, sometime Cowboy. Jest, not now. No offense ner nothin'?" Jack smiled and put his hand on the smaller boy's back.   
  
"None taken Race."  
  
It was last year at the end of the rally, everyone around Racetrack was cheering and yelling. Then all of a sudden, Sarah came up to Jack and started kissing him. Catcalls mingled with his own. Then he saw Bright Eyes. He thought she was absolutely beautiful, as she stood next to him, watching Jack and the rest of the Newsies with proud eyes. Then she caught his gaze and they both reached for each other at the same time, and this time the cat calls were for him and all eyes were on him and Bright.   
Then time sprang forward, to that night in the alley. The kiss was relived over in his mind, just as sweet and innocent. Then all of a sudden, the Delancys tore her away from him. Then one of them held Racetrack's arms behind his back as Bright Eyes was torn from him kicking and screaming, with a club held menacingly over her head. "NO!" Racetrack sat up with a start and head met wood with a splintering crash. "Ohhhhhh ouch!"   
"Hey shat dup ova dere!" Racetrack rubbed his head as yells erupted around the room. "Oh, dats why I hates bein' on da bottom bunk!"   
"Whatsa matta Race?" Cowboy's voice came floating off of the top bunk across from Racetrack.   
"Oh nothin', jest dreamin'."   
  
"Bout what?"  
  
"Oh, kissin'."  
  
"Good kissin'?"  
  
"Oh yeah!"  
  
Jack sighed. "Well at least you know it was real Race. Seems like alla mine are fake. Dats all I gets stuck wit'. Fake stuff." Racetrack stood up and leaned over Jack curiously. "Whatcha talkin' bout Cowboy?" Jack turned toward Race. Racetrack was surprised to see that the boy looked terribly uncomfortable.   
  
"Its just dat. Well, me an' Sarah ain't meant fer each udda, I guess. An' I tol' her dat tonight."   
Racetrack was speechless. He had never known that Sarah and Jack were having problems or fighting. They always seemed so perfect for each other, despite the fact that Sarah was a little patronizing at times. "Hey, Jacky. When did all dis start, huh?" Jack shrugged.   
  
"Not long afta da strike was ova."  
  
"But dat was a year ago Jack!"  
  
"I know."  
  
Jack sighed to himself and turned over. "Jest be glad dat you got somethin' true Race, while you still got it." Racetrack stared at his friend for a while longer and patted his back. Then he too crawled into bed and fell asleep, trying not to think of his previous nightmare.  
  
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Mr. Weasel waited impatiently outside Joseph Pulitzer's office. He had been there for over an hour, and the chubby man was not pleased. "The least he can do is be home when I say I have somethin' important to say to him! People don't seem to know the meaning of important anymore!" Weasel mumbled. As he spoke, Pulitzer's butler, Seitz, opened the door for him. "Mr. Pulitzer will see you now." "Well, its about time!" Mr. Weasel protested as he shoved past Seitz, and walked into the office.  
Mr. Pulitzer was standing near his window overlooking the city, puffing a cigar. He turned as Weasel entered. "Ah, Mr. Wiesel. I understand that you had something very important to tell me." Weasel gulped. Well, here goes nothin'. Weasel thought. "Mr. Pulitzer, sir. I was wondering if you remembered the strike last year?" Mr. Pulitzer began to fume, startling Weasel. "REMEMBER THE STRIKE! Of course I remember the strike! Do you take me for a fool?" He then stood silently as if pondering his words before he spoke again, quietly this time. "Why do you want to know?"  
"Well sir, I personally feel terrible about how the strike turned out sir. And well," Weasel stuttered. "Yes, go on." Mr. Pulitzer prodded. "Well sir, I was wondering if there was a way you could help me get back at them, the Newsies that is. They've given you some pretty hard medicine I've heard and even made you out to be a fool when they used your presses to print their paper." Weasel said in one breath. Mr. Pulitzer motioned Weasel to continue after comprehending what he was saying. "So I was hoping that you would help me with a little plan I've concocted for them. Somethin' special, seeing that the anniversary of the strike is next week." Pulitzer fingered his beard and chuckled, blowing cigar smoke into the air and watching it disappear before he spoke again. "What did you have in mind, Mr. Wiesel?"  
  
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"I dunno Medda, I know Jack wanted ta use da hall but I's just not sua how many boys is gonna come! I can't even give you an estimate! It might be a lot more dan last yea though." Bright Eyes said to Medda Larkson as she walked through the temporarily empty music hall where Medda performed. As she stared at the seats, she remembered that night. Yeah, I had sat right dere with Spot afta Medda insisted I sing a solo during "High Times, Hard Times". Den Racetrack went up wit' da rest of da boys and "assisted" Medda. Some a dem boys can't carry a tune, but it was fun all da same. Then the bulls came, and before me an Spot lit out, I saw Racetrack get smacked dang hard by a big punk. I memba I asked Spot ta stop so we could help 'im, but it was too late. "Why da heck do I keep thinkin' of him all da time!!" Bright Eyes yelled unexpectedly, surprising both herself and Medda.  
"Vhat is wrong? Are you allright, dahling?" Medda asked, concerned. Bright Eyes shook her head, her face on fire. "It was nothin Medda ferget it." Medda shook her head and sat next to Bright Eyes on the swing attached to the stage. "You know, I vas in love, vonce or tvice." Bright Eyes looked Medda, now curious. "Whaddya mean Medda?" Medda looked at her knowingly. "You know exactly vhat I mean Bright Eyes."   
Bright Eyes blushed as Medda sighed and began again. "I couldn't stop thinking about him, not even for a minute. I tried to erase his face from my mind, but it was impossible. I couldn't love him. Not ever. But I did. No matter vhat. No matter how hard I tried." Medda's shoulders slouched and she bent over and held her hands in her lap as Bright Eyes looked at her startled. The idea of Medda, being in love and feeling the same way she did, was a new idea to Bright Eyes.   
"What happened to 'im?" Medda straightened. "That I can't tell you. It is a secret for now. Later maybe. In the meantime, cherish your love. It might disappear in any minute if you aren't careful. Treasure it, for it is truly the greatest treasure in the world." Medda said quietly, as she stroked Bright Eyes' face. "Now get along and tell Jack that he can have the hall, but let me know before hand when he vants to set up! Go on now!" Bright Eyes smiled and left Medda sitting on the swing, engrossed in her private thoughts of all of her yesterdays.  
Medda's words had made Bright Eyes think. So preoccupied was Bright Eyes that she didn't notice that she was being followed, until she was about a block from the Lodging House, when she heard a can being kicked. Quickly she spat out her cigarette and threw up her fists expectantly. "O.k. whoeva's out dea, come out if'n you is wantin' ta fight wit me! C'mon!" All was silent for a moment, but then a familiar voice spoke from the shadows. "We don't wanna hoit ya dis time Bright Face." Bright Eyes' fists, who had uncurled for a moment, were up by her face in a nanosecond, when she realized the voice's owner.  
"Osca, don't you be tryin' to pull somethin' wit me! You knows dat I can whip ya, and den set Spot on ya's if'n I gets a mind ta." Oscar and Morris stepped out of the shadow of the alley, hands at their sides looking very innocent. " C'mon Brighty put yer fists down. We don't wanna hoit ya. Just talk to ya and tell you a little bit o'somthin' we heard somewhere's that concerns you." Bright Eyes' fists stayed where they were, but she loosened a little as the Delancy's approached her slowly. Oscar came up to her and shoved her fists down by her sides as he spoke.   
"Now, dats betta. So, shall we tell ya what we heard?" When Bright Eyes didn't respond, Oscar shrugged and began speaking again. "We been hearin' things all ova town, even in Brooklyn and da Bronx and udda places. People don't respect ya like dey used ta. People think that you ain't worth anythin' cause you live in a boy's Lodging House. Even some Newsies are talkin' 'bout dis. "  
Bright Eyes shrugged. "Where else am I supposed ta stay? Not in no orphanage eva!" Even though she spoke with a sort of confidence in herself, it was obvious that she was breaking down gradually as she listened to the boy. Oscar sat down on a crate and continued as if he hadn't heard Bright Eyes. "There's also been some talk dat if you don't change, some people might come afta ya. Powerful people. And not jest bulls eitha." Oscar stood up again and put his hands on Bright Eyes' shoulders. Bright Eyes cringed slightly and refused to look in his face, that now appeared truly concerned for her well being. "I'm sayin' this as a warnin' and I doin' dis because it is a friend's duty to spread woid concernin' uddas."   
Bright Eyes turned on Oscar furiously. "Since when did ya care about me Delancy? You neva did, not in my lifetime! And if'n yer thinkin' dat you can soften me up a little by tellin' me stuff dat probably ain't true, well yer dead wrong!" Bright Eyes shook herself from Oscar's grasp and walked hurriedly down the street and around the corner to the Lodging House. Morris walked up to Oscar and spoke for the first time. "Whaddya think Osca?" Oscar shook his head in the affirmative as he gazed after the girl. "We got her. Lets go report." The two then slunk back into the shadows of the alleys from where they had come, almost like snakes slinking into a burrow.  
  
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From the minute that Bright Eyes walked into the room, Kid Blink could see that she was troubled. The way she walked and the way she offhandedly said hello to the boys was a let on. Racetrack wasn't there, he was still selling his papes with Cowboy, so Blink took it upon himself to talk to her. Blink followed Bright Eyes onto the fire escape, where he sat down next to her on the railing. "Whatcha doin'?" Bright Eyes didn't even look at Blink when she answered, just gazed out at the city. "Nothin'. Just thinkin'." "Bout what Bright?" Bright Eyes finally turned her eyes on Kid Blink dejectedly. "I really don't wanna talk about it now Kid. Just some stuff I heard in da street. Where's Race? Do ya know?"   
Now Kid Blink knew that something was wrong with Bright. She never changed the subject that quickly. Never. She just didn't do that. The thing that's bothering her must be pretty bad, Blink thought. But he answered her question. "Race is still sellin' his papes wit Jack. He should be back later tonight." Kid Blink then brought out a cigarette and handed it to Bright Eyes, who took it and began to smoke it with a passion. "Bright Eyes, what kinda stuff did you hea on da street?"   
Bright Eyes stared at the cigarette smoke curling around itself, then disappearing into the night sky. "Nothin' of importance." Blink was so frustrated with Bright that it took all of his energy to keep from shaking her. "It musta been pretty important if'n you're actin' like dis." Bright Eyes' head shot up angrily. "Like what Kid? What am I doin' wrong?" Blink's good eye began to flash as he spoke in the same angry tone as the girl, whose face was now bright red, and growing redder. "Like how about dis, oh nothin's wrong Blink, I'm just totally out of it and am so dejected dat I hafta smoke a cigarette like its my last one I'll eva get! Nope, nothin' wrong Blink!" Blink imitated.   
The sting on Blink's face was nothing compared to the anguished look on Bright Eyes' face as she slapped him. Blink's hand flew to his red cheek instinctively, looking up into her face, utterly bewildered. Bright Eyes had never touched one of the Newsies like that, except in fun. Bright Eyes fled from the fire escape, jumping down the stairs two at a time. Blink called after her, but she refused to let herself listen.  
You just hit one of yer best friends fer no good reason! He was just concerned 'bout ya and whaddya do? Ya slap 'im cross his face! Ya bum! Bright Eyes' thoughts filled her mind and body with an anguish that finally ripped from her chest as she slumped into an alley, tears falling down her face and onto the dirty ground. She couldn't go back there, not tonight anyway. Still sobbing, only more quietly, Bright Eyes lay on the ground till her sobbing turned to whimpering when she passed out from exhaustion.  
  
  
  



	3. No Escape

*Note from Author* Be patient with me guys! :-) I'm trying to fix the format so you can read it better. How is it now? Review and tell me so I know what to do if it needs to be tweaked more. Thanx! T.H.  
  
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"Ya did what?" Racetrack yelled. "I didn't know it was so important, udderwise I woulda acted differently! You know dat Race!" Blink protested. Racetrack and Jack had just returned and Racetrack having heard about the incident with Bright Eyes, was furious and confused at the same time. "Dere was somethin' botherin' her Jack! She neva woulda slapped me uddawise!" Blink pleaded with Jack, who stood off to the side pondering every word said. "Maybe she's sick or somethin'." Crutchy suggested. "If dats so, we betta go find her!"   
  
"I agree wit Crutchy. Even if she ain't sick, we cain't leave her alone. An if'n we find her an she does want ta be alone, we'll leave it up ta her ta come back, 'kay? Race?" Racetrack grunted as he and some of the other boys walked out the door. Blink lingered in the doorway, looking very depressed. Jack paused in the doorway to put his arm around the boy's shoulder. "I really didn't mean ta hoit her Jack. But it just happened!" Jack smiled. " I know. It ain't yer fault. Lots o'dese boys don't blame you really. Dey jes cares 'bout Bright a lot. Now c'mon les find her huh?" Blink smiled wanly at Jack as the two walked out the door.  
  
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"Jack, I found her! I found her!" Skittery's voice from inside the alley, sent all the boys running. Bright Eyes was laying in the alley, her face was pale white and stripped of the red that usually filled it. Sweatdrops clung to her face shimmering like crystals in the moonlight. Racetrack immediately dropped on his knees and felt her head. "She's not dat hot Jack, but still, just a little." Jack fell down beside Racetrack, felt her head and nodded. Then he began to shake the girl gently as every Newsie looked on, waiting for some sign. Bright Eyes' eyes remained screwed shut and her body limp. Everyone's hearts fell. "I tink she's okay boys. Just passed out. She's exhausted." Jack then lifted the girl with ease and carried her back to the Lodging House, with all the boys following silently as if they were at a funeral.  
  
When they got to the Lodging House, Jack gently laid Bright Eyes down on her bed and covered her with the sheets on it. "Hey somebody get me some wata an' some towels 'kay. Da rest of ya's, go ta bed, it ain't gonna help her none if you stay up all night!" Most of the boys shuffled out of the room, except for Jack, Kid Blink and Racetrack. Kid Blink had already fulfilled Jack's order, and gave him the towels. Jack in turn sponged off Bright Eyes' sweaty face with the saturated cloth. When he was done, he sat back in a chair. "Well boys, you gonna stay?" Both boys nodded silently. After a while, Racetrack spoke quietly to Kid Blink. "Sorry fer causin' such a scene befoa." Blink smiled and patted Racetrack on the back. Then the three boys waited out the night with the girl.  
  
Racetrack woke up the next morning sore and stiff, having fallen asleep in a wooden rocking chair for the night. He sat up and stretched his aching joints. Jack and Kid Blink had fallen next to each other in small couch in a corner of the room, snoring softly. Remembering the reason why he was there, Racetrack looked toward the bed. The covers were thrown back and the bed empty. Race jumped up and walked quickly out the already open door. Racetrack gave a sigh of relief as he saw Bright Eyes pouring water so she could wash her face. He gave her a pat on the back as he arrived. "Heya Bright! How ya feelin'?" Bright Eyes turned to Racetrack and gave him a small smile. "I was fine last night Race. Jest tired, dats all."  
  
Racetrack nodded his head slightly. "So is dat why ya hit Blink? Just outta curiosity. You was jest tired? Cause I undastand if'n it was just dat." Bright Eyes stiffened as she remembered the incident that had occured last night. Then she shook it off. "Yeah dats all. I gotta 'poligize to 'im lata. Betta get goin'. Don't wanna waste anymore time dan I hafta!" Then she turned stiffly and walked away, with a tad of her usual flair gone. Racetrack stared after her and shoved his hat back on his head, exposing his black hair. "You see what I mean Race?" Blink surprised Racetrack as he came up behind him. Racetrack nodded. "Dere's somethin' she ain't tellin'. She'll probably tell us sooner or lata I guess. Betta get crackin' or Kloppman will 'ave a fit!" He then proceeded to remove his cap, and dunk his head energetically into the water filled sink, making Blink and the rest of the Newsies laugh at the spry, humorous Italian.  
  
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Bright Eyes sat on the Lodging House steps with the rest of the Newsies, her former worries forgotten. Everything seemed to be as it used to be. Blink and Bright Eyes had each exchanged apologies and forgiveness' and each was extremely happy about it. When going on her route, Bright Eyes had observed her sellers. None of them seemed to have a prejudice against her at all. Da Delancy's jest wanted ta give me a scare dats all. Tryin' ta run me out! Well dat won't eva happen! Dis is where I belong, nowhere else! The whole lot of them were smoking up a storm, telling jokes and showing the younger children how they could blow complicated smoke rings.   
  
"Excuse me." All of a sudden silence reigned on the doorstep, save for the taking off of caps on the boys part. Bright Eyes' hat remained on her head. She wasn't about to take off her hat for a girl, least of all this girl. The girl standing in front of them looked wealthy and rather well off. She wore a lacy yellow dress, with a matching hat and parasol, which she held sophisticatedly over her shoulder. Her chestnut brown hair hung in dainty ringlets over her shoulders, and her light blue eyes sparkled. Her cupid's bow lips arched beautifully as she spoke again, not to the boys, but to Bright Eyes.  
  
"Isn't smoking bad for your health, especially for a woman's?" Bright Eyes stared the girl square in the eye as she spoke coolly, "Well, I dunno. I don't see any lady hea! Do any of you boys see a lady hea?" All the boys answered the negative in unison, laughing with Bright as they did so. The girl was disgusted. "How can you even show your face in public? Its disgusting! You dress like a boy, you act like a boy, and if someone got close enough, you would smell like a boy!" Bright Eyes eyes twinkled mischievously. "And you would be da expoit on how a boy smells wouldn't ya!" All the boys laughed hysterically. Tears began to spurt out of Snipeshooter's eyes as he rolled on the ground engaged in a laughing fit.   
  
"You know what I mean! Smelly, sweaty, and smoky!" Bright rolled her eyes. "Puhlese! Everyone smells like dat soona or lata! Specially if you actually woik!" The girl's eyes widened. "You know, it is disgraceful. Everyone says so. That you should be sent to a place where girls are accepted and boys do not work. Like a sewing shop. You ought to hear my father talk about you in the evenings and how terrible it is that you flounce yourself around acting like, a, well. A you know what." Then she silently mouthed the dreaded word.   
  
All the laughter stopped instantly. Bright Eyes' cigarette lay in between her fingers burning itself down gradually. Bright Eyes stood up suddenly and stepped up to the girl and got into her face as she spoke. "Look, I live life da way its been thrown at me! Dis is jest what happened ta me! I was bawn an' raised a Newsie, and dats how I intends ta keep it. Reputation or not! Ya followin' me! Nobody, not even a stuck up pig like you can tell me how to live MY life!" The girl flicked off imaginary dust where Bright Eyes had touched her arm. "All right, just don't feel sorry for yourself, when no one buys your papers, or you end up in the Refuge." Then the girl put up her parasol and walked away daintily, leaving Bright Eyes and all the boys staring after her in silence.  
  
Stillness engulfed the front steps. Now uncomfortable, everyone began to show it. Bright Eyes hadn't moved since the girl left. Racetrack pushed his hat back on his head. Snipeshooter sat still on the ground staring at his hat. Crutchy flicked a rock with his crutch. Jack looked at his shoes, and Blink stared at his cigarette as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Finally Racetrack got the guts to speak up. " Don't listen ta anyting she says Bright. Its probably jest a gag." Bright Eyes turned to him. She looked into his eyes, stood up slowly and then began to walk off. "Dats probably it. I's gonna go fer a walk. Don't follow me. I'll be back in good time." The boys stared at Bright Eyes' retreating figure for a while, Racetrack longest of all.   
  
There was something going on that he didn't like. There was something wrong with Bright and he couldn't help her. He hated that. He hated not being able to help someone he cared about, it made him feel too helpless. This was so unusual. Bright had heaid somthin' on da street dat made 'er really upset. Den she just all a sudden went downright pale when dat goil made dose remawks 'bout 'er. I wonda, if dey are connected in some way? Naw, but maybe. Racetrack shook the idea off his mind for the moment, but it still remained in the corner of his brain, ready for use if needed.   
  
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As soon as Bright Eyes was out of the Newsies' line of sight, she began to run. Where could she go? Who could she ask? Who would know what to do in something like this? She stopped, then turned a corner and headed toward Irving Hall to talk to Medda.. She arrived in through the back door just after Medda finished performing. In fact she ran into Medda as she came backstage. "Vhat are you doing, running too and fro, Bright Eyes?" Medda laughed. "Oh nothin'. Medda, I just needs ta ask ya somethin'." Medda listened intently.  
  
"Well," Bright Eyes hesitated. "If I tell ya dis Medda, ya gots ta swear neva ta tell anyone dat I talked ta ya 'bout dis! Least of all da Newsies! Specially Race an Spot!" she added in almost a whisper. Medda nodded, her face now etched with concern. "Well, have ya eva heaid some tings going round 'mong da people. Like people tawkin' 'bout me?" "Well, like vhat?" Medda asked. Bright Eyes eyes' flicked nervously around the room, before she spoke. "Well, like stuff dat I ain't good fer nothin' an dat peoples are gonna put me in da refuge, and well, stuff related ta dat nature?" Medda's red eyebrows raised. "Vell I haven't heard any such thing, where did you?" Bright Eyes blushed. "Dunno, around. Tanks Medda." Bright Eyes then suddenly ran out the door and into the twilight, leaving Medda in the back stairwell thoroughly confused.  
  
Bright Eyes walked down the street, her stomach growling. She had walked by Tibby's a few minutes ago, but at the sight of the Newsies eating and laughing, she figured she could wait a few more hours. This was the first time that she couldn't confide her feelings to the Newsies. They were like her adopted brothers, but she couldn't bring herself to tell them that she might have to leave them for good. "Are you the Newsie that calls herself Bright Eyes?" The man's voice behind her, startled Bright Eyes so much that she practically jumped out of her skin.  
  
She was even more surprised when she saw that she was trapped by four policemen, each armed. "Whats it to ya?" Bright asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Your employer, Mr. Joseph Pulitzer wishes to have you in his presence." Bright Eyes shrugged. "Well what if I choose not ta?" "Then you will be turned over to the police for questioning, then to the Refuge." The policeman replied, unmoved. Bright Eyes was in a tough spot. Should she run, or stay and submit to Pulitzer. But what did Pulitzer want? "O.k. I'll stay put, but ya gotta catch me foist!" But before Bright Eyes got the chance to run, a bull pounded her on the back with his nightstick, so that she fell to the ground dazed. The policemen jerked her up and took her to the waiting carriage.  
  
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By the time Bright Eyes regained consciousness, the carriage was just pulling up the driveway of the Pulitzer mansion. 'What da heck would Pulitzer be wantin' wit' me? I haven't done anythin' real bad lately! Course I did snitch dat apple about tree weeks ago, but dats nothin' he coulda found out about. Or did he?' Thoughts of this nature ran through Bright Eyes' drowsy mind as she was escorted up the monumental steps by the policemen. 'Was dis how Jack felt? Unsua of whats gonna 'appen to ya? Afraid fer yerself? I wish I hadn't told da boys not ta look fer me! A little help would be appreciated right about now!' She thought as the policemen stopped outside the front door and were greeted by Seitz. "I'll take care of it from here gentlemen, thank you." Seitz said, taking hold of Bright Eyes' arm, his hold surprisingly gentle. The men walked back down the steps and sat to wait by the carriage.  
  
Seitz laughed, surprising Bright Eyes. "They always think that they will be needed more. Always ready to get tipped by Joe." Bright Eyes looked into the old man's face and studying his features. He looked down at her. "Don't worry. Mr. Pulitzer isn't going to hurt you. He just wants to talk to you about some things. Nothing to worry about." Bright Eyes snorted. "Yeah, I've had a scab tell me dat more dan once, an' usually it wasn't jest talkin' dat occurred." Seitz looked down at the grubby girl with a look of affection and pity as he let her in to a large room. "Wait here. Mr. Pulitzer should be downstairs soon."  
"Whats he doin' gettin' his medals on or somethin'?" Bright Eyes retorted. The man struggled to keep a smile off of his face and closed the door.  
  
Bright Eyes walked around the room, observing the objects and pictures with a growing interest. 'Mus' be grand livin' in a 'ouse like dis. Havin' all dese pictures an' stuff. Wonda where he got 'em all? Wonda whea I could get some o' dis stuff?' Bright Eyes' thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She turned quickly and saw Mr. Pulitzer walking slowly down the stairs. She stood up straighter as he approached, determined not to let him sense her uneasiness. "Hey ya Joe. Long time no see."  
  
The old man stiffened as the girl spoke to him. Then he motioned her to a chair. She sat in a large, cushy leather chair, sinking into it delightfully. "So why'd ya want me Joe? Got a problem wit my sellin'? Or ya jest miss me from da last time we met?" The girl remarked sarcastically." Mr. Pulitzer ignored the girl's cynical comments and commenced to speak to her convincingly. "I have a proposition for you my girl. It involves the rally you and your Newsie friends will be putting on, about a week from now." Bright Eyes rolled her eyes. "No it ain't a rally rally. Its like a commemoration ting, in memry of da last rally we 'ad."  
  
Pulitzer shrugged it off. "Now I understand that you have been talked to by many people who claim that your reputation of being a girl Newsie is failing. Now I can help you raise that reputation if you help me. The girl shrugged. "Bribery Joe? I neva woulda 'spected dat!" Bright Eyes remarked, grinning. Pulitzer looked at the girl who at the moment seemed unconcerned with anything he had told her. He decided to get on with the main reason he had asked her here. " What I want from you is a way for some of my people to get into your rally. There will be thousands of boys there, make sure that there is room for some of my boys to, help you all out."   
  
Bright Eyes sat up straight in her chair, her eyes blazing. "Help us out? Dat what you said Joe? Well, I know what ya mean by "helping us out." In plain woids, soakin' us! No can do Joe. Find some otha crony ta do yer doity woik." Pulitzer leaned down close to the girl's face and spoke in soft, convincing tones. "If you do not do this, I'll have to contact someone, who has very persistently attempted to see me about a certain girl he believes is now a Newsie." Pulitzer stood up slowly and observed the change on Bright Eyes' face. He finally had grabbed her attention. "Lets see if his name rings a bell to you, hmm? How about John O'Connor?"   
  
At the man's name, Bright Eyes' face went sheet white and her hands clasped the arms of the chair as if she feared that she was going to fall off. When she spoke, her voice was tense and frightened. "Ya wouldn't do dat Joe. You can't do dat ta me. I ain't seen him in ages an I don't intend ta see him again! Please Joe." The look of triumph in Pulitzer's eyes made Bright Eyes heart drop in her chest. He had her now, and there was no escape. "Well, how can we work around this here problem. You can let my boys in, or I contact your father. Is it a deal?" Pulitzer stood expectantly looking at Bright Eyes, while she thought. Finally she spoke, her voice soft and timid. "Ya promise, no one gets hoit Joe?" Pulitzer laughed. "Of course not." Bright Eyes stood up slowly and began to walk toward the door with a dejected air about her. "Nice doin' business witcha Joe." she commented as the door closed softly behind her, leaving the old man alone in the room contemplating his next move.  
  
Seitz walked into the room shortly after Bright Eyes had left. He looked at Mr. Pulitzer curiously. "Chief, you wouldn't really contact her father, would you?" Pulitzer laughed and lit a cigar. "Of course I wouldn't, that was just a convincer. Besides, there is no real way to contact him." Seitz was now thoroughly confused at what his boss was telling him. "But Chief, why?" Pulitzer puffed the stinking smoke out of his mouth with a certain relish. "Because he's dead Seitz. Two weeks ago was shot by some goon drunker that he was. But I can still contact someone who looks remarkably like him, and just as convincing." Seitz cocked his head, waiting to hear more. "His identical twin brother." Pulitzer said, with a smirk spreading across his features delightfully.  
  
  
  
  



	4. On the Verge of No Return

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'Stupid, stupid, STUPID!' Bright Eyes thought as she made her way back to the Lodging House. 'Ya just gave Pulitzer entrance ta probably hoit ya friends! Way ta go Brighty! How'm I gonna 'splain dis to da boys?' She thought angrily. "Bright Eyes?" The voice startled her so much that she yelled aloud, startling the speaker as well. "Les, what da heck you sneakin' up on me for?" The small boy shrugged and took her hand. "I wanted to know where you were. I was worried 'bout ya." Bright Eyes stared off into the distance as the two walked. "Nothin' ta worry 'bout Les. Ya don't need ta worry 'bout me. Can take care of meself." Les was silent for a few minutes. "Why did you go to Mister Pulitzer's house?"   
  
Bright Eyes froze in her tracks. Then she knelt down until she was eye level with Les. "Ya followed me all da way dere?" Les nodded. "Listen, its nothin' ta worry 'bout. Pulitzer just wanted ta see me ta make sua I was sellin' right, 'kay?" Les nodded but still looked unconvinced. "But why did he want to see you 'bout that? He coulda just gone out in the street and watched ya!" Bright Eyes sighed and stood up. "Yer startin' ta act nosy like yer brother David. I don't like nosy people. Now when I say somethin' I mean it 'kay! Its nothin' ta worry 'bout. Ya undastand?"  
  
Les nodded and smiled. "Wait till I tell the boys that I got ta see Mr. Pulitzer's house!" "NO!" Les jumped at Bright Eyes' sudden exclamation. Bright Eyes blushed, then bent back down to Les' face. "No, listen, ya don't need ta blab dat I went ta see Pulitzer, or dat you saw da house neitha. Lets keep it 'tween us." Les was now thoroughly confused. "But why?" Bright Eyes smiled sadly. "Cause da boys probably wouldn't undastand why I was dere. Dey would wanna know why, and ask questions dat I couldn't answer at da moment."   
  
Les looked down at his shoes. He had never known Bright to want to keep things from the Newsies, but he also admired her greatly. "I won't tell then. But maybe someday?" Bright Eyes smiled, relieved. "Yeah someday. Now lets get home before da boys send out anotha seaich party!" The two then proceeded down the street, Bright Eyes throwing in a little skip here and there, until it ended up with Les laughing hysterically as the two began to skip as fast as they could go down the cobblestone streets.   
  
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"Ta da!" All the heads in the Lodging House turned to see Bright Eyes and Les, laughing and redfaced tumble into the room. Everyone laughed as the two took bows right and left until Les fell on the floor laughing heartily. Bright Eyes made a curtsy then plopped down on the floor next to Racetrack and Jack, laughing. Jack smiled and rubbed her head fiercely, until she pushed him away, giggling. "So yer in a betta mood I see." Jack said as Bright Eyes smoothed down her hair. "Yeah, needed ta get out ya know." "Where'd ya go?" The question made Bright Eyes stiffen slightly, but she relaxed as Les spoke. "I found her over by the docks Jack." It wasn't exactly a lie. The docks were two blocks away from Pulitzer's house.  
  
"You didn't even let me know that you were gone Les. I was really worried." David put in, glaring at Les, who put his head down shamefully. Bright Eyes put an arm around his shoulder and spoke to David in defensive tones. "Hey cool it Davey. Me an' Les was just lookin' fer trouble. An' plus, he was wit' me, so he wasn't alone ya know!" All the boys agreed solemnly with Bright Eyes, causing David to throw his hands up in the air. Then he put his hands on his chin, giving a sort of thinking position before he spoke again. "Bright Eyes, I have a proposition for you." Bright Eyes was confused. "A propa what?" When David smiled at her remark, Bright Eyes gritted her teeth at her ignorance. "A suggestion."   
  
Bright Eyes waited for David to continue. He coughed and went on. "I talked to my teacher Miss Weathrop and she said that she would love to help us with the rally party. On the condition that you come to school and observe the classes." "What!!" Bright Eyes and Racetrack yelled in unison. They looked at each other surprised, then Bright Eyes began talking in fast frustrated tones. "Why da heck did ya do dat Mouth? You know dat I've neva been to a school in my life!" "Besides," Racetrack added, blowing cigar smoke in David's face. "It sounds ta me dat da teacher wants ta have a little bit of fun wit' Bright. By showin' how, sorry Bright, how she don't know as much as everybody else, jest cause she cain't go ta school." As he spoke, Racetrack put a protective arm around Bright Eyes' shoulder. Collective affirmations then began to develop around the room "C'mon Race. Dats probly not da idea." Jack said defensively.  
  
"O.k. if you don't want to come, thats fine. We just won't have any extra help with the rally commemoration." David said regretfully. Bright Eyes' blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling and she threw up her hands. "Fine, fine Davey. I can see dat you really tink dat we need help. When do I need ta be dere?" David smiled. "Meet me at the Greely statue at 8:00. You won't regret it." Bright Eyes stuck her hands in her pockets. "I betta not. An' I hope yer teacher don't mind if'n I hafta soak somebody fer makin' fun of me." David's eyes widened. "You can't beat up kids in school," he started. "It'll give ya a bad name, I know Davey." Bright Eyes finished. "But I only do what I hafta do, an' if dat happens ta be what I hafta do, so be it."   
  
"I'm comin' witcha Bright. An' if dose kids are gonna 'tempt ta make fun of ya, they'll be messin' wit' my fists." Racetrack said smacking his fists together as the rest of the Newsies yelled their encouragement's. "Tanks Race." Bright Eyes whispered. Racetrack gave her a small smile and patted her on the back. "No problem Bright." Jack watched Racetrack from a few feet away. The boy's face was a tad flushed as his hand lingered on Bright Eyes' back. Then he saw his hand softly touch one of the brown curls hanging out from under the girl's hat. 'Sarah.' Jack thought. 'I useta do dat ta Sarah all da time. Just da thrill of touchin' her was enough ta show dat I was in love at da time. I wish, I wish dat we had been what each of us was lookin' for.'  
  
David, also saw the strange look come over Racetrack's face, and for some reason unknown to him, he became angry. 'Why do I feel this way about her? It isn't right. I mean, she is a Newsie and I am a person who has a reputation and is educated. So why do I have feelings for a girl Newsie, who is tougher than I am at all? It doesn't make sense. Does Racetrack like her? I wonder. They weren't always friends the boys have said. Something like when they were little and they got in a fight or something. If thats true, why should he like her now?' He thought At that moment he saw Jack walk away from his spot and sit on his bed across the room. David decided to ask the Newsie about this supposed incident and how it came about.  
  
"Um, Jack?" David peeked up on top of the bunk bed at Jack, who at the moment was sprawled across it. At the sound of his voice, Jack's foot swung across and hit David in the face. "Ouch!!" Jack smiled and peered over the edge of the bed. "Dats what ya get when ya surprise me Davey! Whaddya want?" David made a face and rubbed the now sore spot on his cheek. "Geez, all I wanted to know is something about Racetrack and Bright Eyes." Jack jumped down from the bed, missing Davids head by inches, and sat on the lower bunk. "Like what kinda stuff Davey?"  
  
David took a breath and began. "Well, I've heard some of the boys talking about one time when Bright Eyes and Racetrack weren't always friends. When I asked them about it, they just walked away. Did it even happen?" Jack grinned. "Oh it happened all right. Long time ago though. Bright Eyes was about oh, maybe 7 and so Race is a yea olda dan her, so he was 8. Dis is what happened." Jack then preceded to tell the story, creating a picture something like this for David.   
  
The streets of Brooklyn were incredibly busy that day, even more so than usual. Bright Eyes, or Annie as she was called then, took advantage of the day to shout out her exaggerated headlines, bringing people in like bees to honey. So busy was she that when a boy plowed into her from behind, she fell over and on top of her papers. "Heya watch it kid? Where do ya think yer goin'?" The boy jumped up, holding a bunch of papers in his hands. "Sorry fer da mess me friend. Didn't even see ya!" The boy remarked as he dusted himself off. Annie took in the details of the boy. He was short, only a few inches or so below her. He had dark black hair that was covered with a black hat. Hanging out of a pocket in his black and gold checked vest, was a battered gold pocketwatch.   
  
The boy then tipped his hat, and to Annie's surprise, began calling out headlines! In her spot, he was calling out headlines! "I'll kill 'im! But maybe he don't know what he's doin'. But I'll settle dat." Annie rolled up her sleeves, set her papers down on a nearby bench and walked over to the boy. "Hey! Whaddya tink yer doin'?" The boy looked up. "Sellin' whats it look like? Ya blind er sometin'?" Annie clenched her teeth together tightly. "Yer sellin' in my spot. If you've been a Newsie fer a long time you'd know dat you neva sell in anotha Newsies' spot!"   
  
The boy shrugged and wound up his pocketwatch carelessly. "Well I've been a Newsie fer a while, an' I know dat all ya say is true. But da only problem is, I don't allow meself ta be bossed around by a goil wit a frightful attitude. Really, ya should get dat looked at!" The boy didn't even see the punch coming toward his stomach till it was too late. He fell down on the ground clutching his stomach and groaning. "Dats what ya get." Annie then began to walk away, but fell flat on her face. When she looked behind her, she saw that the boy had her by the foot, smiling devilishly and he wasn't about to let go. Annie kicked him in the face with her captured foot, and it was released with a cry of pain.  
  
A scuffle ensued, and was eventually broken up by the coming of the police. Annie and the boy made a break for a nearby alley as the police searched the vicinity. The boy had come out of the fight with a black eye and an assortment of bruises and cuts, as did Annie. As they sat in the alley panting, the boy spoke again, this time with a tone of something close to respect. "Yer a good fighta kid. Sorry fer da woids. Me name's Racetrack." Annie shrugged. "Tanks I guess." The boy looked at the girl incredulously. "Tanks ya guess? Are ya tankin' me er not? Whats yer name? I told ya mine." Annie stood up slowly and began to walk out of the alley. "Look, I don't owe anybody nothin'. Least of all you. An' I neva feel obligated ta tell me name, if'n I don't want ta. So lets leave it at dat." She then exited the alley leaving a flabbergasted Racetrack in the darkness.   
  
"O.k. I still don't see why she would like him at all. I mean, they were fighting and stuff and they were still on the wrong foot with each other!" Jack rolled his brown eyes at David's complaints. "Da problem wit' you Davey is ya neva wait long enough fer someone ta finish a story. Let me finish!"   
  
Racetrack forgot about the girl whose name he didn't know after a while. You meet some people who don't tell you their name and then some. In fact, Racetrack didn't think about her at all until about five months later, when he was out walking in Central Park by himself. He had been selling all day and was tired, but he decided just to see how life was in Central Park for a bit. Sort of as a way to get away from his troubles for a while.   
  
He was walking around when he began to hear noises. Strange noises. "Jest some drunk I bet. Betta steer clear." Racetrack thought. He was about to turn away from that section of the park, when he recognized a voice. It was that girl's voice. She was yelling at someone. Racetrack followed the voices till he came to a part of the park surrounded by bushes. In the middle of this section was a girl and a man. The man was yelling at the girl, and the girl was in turn doing the same. "I won't be goin' back wit' ya! I won't I swear! I'll die before I do!" The girl yelled. "Listen here, ya either be comin' back wit' me, or I'll be makin' ya!" A drunken male voice spoke, with a strong Irish accent.  
  
"I won't, I tell ya!" The girl again, Racetrack realized. What was going on? "Allrighty den, ya've made me choice!" With that the man began to advance upon the small girl with a large night stick, swinging with swooping blows. One of the blows hit home, and the girl fell to the ground with a moan. Something inside Racetrack began to boil. He remembered his mother, being beaten by his father. Her beaten body lying on the floor nearly every night, praying that her children wouldn't wake up, while he would be lying under the stairs watching, eyes wide with horror. Racetrack yelled and ran towards the man, hardly thinking as he punched his fist into the man's stomach, causing him to fall down flat. Racetrack then punched his head, and the drunken man fell down into unconsciousness.   
  
Racetrack stood by himself panting, contemplating what he had just done, and at what could've happened to him if the man hadn't been nearly so drunk. He then remembered the girl and he ran to her side. "Hey, ya o.k? Dats a nasty bump dats growin' on yer head." The girl sat up slightly, staring at Racetrack with a look of something like shock. " What's wrong? Dere sometin' wrong with me face? Maybe me nose got bigga or maybe I gots meself a new eyeball in da middle of me forehead?" The girl laughed softly.   
  
Then she became serious again. "You saved me from 'im. Why? I was so nasty to ya befoa." Racetrack sat down beside her and began to play with the grass at his feet. "Well, a couple reasons. One, because of somethin' dat happened to me a long time ago. An' two, I jest couldn't leave ya in a mess like dat. Whetha ya were mean ta me or not. Nobody deseives ta be treated like dat. An' plus, Newsies help each udda." The girl comprehended what he said, and her eyes glazed over. "Thank you, Racetrack."   
  
Racetrack started. "Ya remembered me name?" The girl laughed sweetly. "Yeah, even if people is mean ta me, I neva fergets a face or a name." Racetrack then took the opportunity to ask, "What do I call ya? I still don't know." " Oh ya can call me Annie I guess. I don't have a Newsie name. Don't really need one. I tink I'll be seein' ya again though. See ya lata Racetrack." She then spit on her hand. Racetrack did the same and they shook hands. Then waving, Annie left Central Park and went back to Brooklyn. Racetrack stuck around for a few minutes, but eventually he too returned to his home.   
  
"So dats da story Dave. Not much to it. So you were right. At one point in time, dey wasn't 'zactly, well, pally shall we say. Why'd ya wanna know anyway Dave?" Jack asked, shoving his hair out of his face absentmindedly. David looked at the group of Newsies now playing poker, Bright Eyes, Racetrack, Blink, Mush, Snoddy, Skittery and Snipeshooter. "No real reason. I guess." Jack rolled his eyes and put his hand on David's shoulder. "Poor guy. Youse been bitten by da love bug."   
  
David whirled around and stared at Jack, wide eyed. "How, what? What do you mean?" Jack then laughed loudly causing the other Newsies to look over to see what the commotion was. "Ya wanna share sometin' wit' us Jackey?" Racetrack yelled. Jack laughed again and waved his hand at the snickering boys. "Davey, I ain't stupid. I been in love too rememba? An' dat little puppy dawg routine you put on is absolutely hysterical. In short, I've known da whole time!" Looking at David's red face, Jack moved closer to him. "Why'd ya wanna know dat?"   
David shrugged, now thoroughly embarrassed. "I don't know. I just wanted to see if there was some way that, Jack she just doesn't even give me the time of day and I hate it! I can't explain my feelings and its driving me up the wall! Not to mention my parents because I rightly can't tell them that I'm in love with a Newsie!" David looked at Jack and was surprised at what he saw. Jack's face was taut and his lips set in a straight line. Jack stood up, grabbed hold of David's shoulder and he practically dragged him out the door and downstairs where he let go of him as they stepped outside. Jack then stood in front of David almost menacingly.  
  
"You can't tell no one dat yer in love wit' a Newsie? Dat what ya said? You said dat like a doity woid Dave. If Bright had heid ya say dat she woulda soaked ya! So do I hafta do it for her Dave? Huh?" "No!" David protested weakly. Jack pushed David up against the side of the Lodging house, his words coming out in fierce whispers. "Listen Dave, its not Bright's fault dat she ain't as well off as you, but ya know what? She's got sometin' betta dan' anytin' you'll eva get. She's got friends dat care 'bout her. Not friends who are afraid ta be seen wit' her cause of her status. An' if Race likes her, good! At least he ain't ashamed of her cause of who she is! Befoa Race said sometin' 'bout you invitin' Bright ta school so dat she could get made fun of. I defended ya cause I tought, oh Dave would neva do dat, no, neva! Well now I'm startin' ta wonda."  
  
Jack let go of David's shoulders as he stepped back. David rubbed them, looking at Jack, dejected and mad. Jack began to speak again, this time not nearly so angrily, but still with a tinge of frustration edging behind his soft voice. "Dave, tings aren't always pictua poifect 'round here like dey is fer you. We got a life ta live, an' ta do dat we need money. Ta get money, we needs a job. An' when ya get a job at a young age ya don't have time ta leain stuff dat udder kids get ta leain. Dat doesn't make us undaprivaliged or nothin'. It jest makes us undastand life betta dan da well off folks, who don't know what life is till dey start ta lose stuff. We don't need yer pity. Save it fer some poor depraved rich folks."   
  
With that, Jack walked back inside the building. In a few minutes, David heard him and the rest of the Newsies laughing and chattering inside. David slumped down against the building and just listened to them. Jack was right. They did have something that he would never have, and if he tried to take it for himself, it would elude him, forever.  
  
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Promptly at 8:00, Bright Eyes and Racetrack arrived at the Greeley statue to wait for David. Each had dressed in their slightly nicer Newsie clothes. Racetrack had donned his black and silver striped vest and had combed his hair out extra hard. Bright Eyes had washed her face better than she usually did and had gotten all the snarls out of her hair, with the help of Racetrack and Crutchy, who insisted on helping because he couldn't go, on Bright Eyes' promise that she would tell him everything when she got back. She had then borrowed a black vest with small blue stripes running down the front from Mush, who had reluctantly handed it over with much convincing on Bright Eyes' part.   
  
The only way she had convinced him to lend it to her was to say that when the girls saw him wearing it while he was selling, they would say that they had recognized him from somewhere, when in reality in had just been the shirt that rang a bell to them. "It'll woik Mush honest! Lots of goils will love ya fer it!" She said earnestly as Mush reluctantly handed over the vest. "Ya betta be right, or I'll hafta hoit ya! Ya really think dat de'll notice me?" He said as an afterthought.  
  
Bright Eyes saw David hurrying over to the statue, and she took a deep breath. "Well, here goes nothin'." She and Racetrack then met David halfway and the threesome headed off to the school. When they arrived, Bright Eyes and Racetrack stared at the tall brick building with the words, ACADAMY OF LEARNING FOR CHILDREN, inscribed on its front. Bright Eyes gulped and Racetrack looked nervous. "What are you waiting for? Lets go!" David said enthusiastically. Racetrack took Bright Eyes' arm and began to lead her up the stairs and in a way, leaning on her for support. Bright Eyes looked over at him and gave him a small smile. "I'm noivous too."  
  
"Now wait here. I'll be right back, and we'll announce you." David then ran into a school room, shutting the door on them. "Oh happy day." Bright Eyes mumbled. "Well, what do we do? I've neva been to no leainin' place befoa." Racetrack said eyeing the children through the window in the door. " Well, I guess dat we tell a bit 'bout ourselves, den we sit an' let da teacha make da next move." Bright Eyes guessed. Just then, David opened the door and waved them in.   
  
Bright Eyes and Racetrack both walked in, hesitantly, staring at the room of curious faces. A lady, with blonde hair piled in ringlets on her head, and dressed in a blue skirt and light blue blouse stood from her desk and walked over to the two. "Well, it is a pleasure to see the two of you today. I am Miss Weathrop. David has told us so much about you." She said pleasantly. "Oh yeah? What kinda stuff?" Racetrack said, eyeing David in his seat. "Oh just about where you live, that sort of thing. Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourselves. You, girl. Why don't you start?" When Bright Eyes began to speak up to speak to the class, she thought she saw a glint pass across the teacher's eye. 'But a glint of what? Probably jest noivous, havin' a bunch of street rats in 'er classroom. Well I'll show 'er!' She thought, setting her lips in a determined line.  
  
"Me name is Bright Eyes. An' dis here is me friend Racetrack" Bright Eyes said in a loud voice. "Don't you have normal names, not to be offensive." The teacher put in. Bright Eyes glared slightly at the teacher as she spoke again. "Dats our names. We got udda names, but dese are da ones we prefer. My names Bright Eyes cause of da color of me eyes. An' Race here, cause he likes ta hang out at da horse races. We both live in a Lodgin' House wit' a bunch of udda boys. We get up in da mawnin', sell da papes, den come home. Nothin' like what some of yer faddas an' muddas do I 'speck. Any questions?"  
  
"Yes I have one. What is it like working for your living at such a young age?" a young girl with blonde hair spoke up, as she eyed Racetrack. Bright Eyes, having not expected an answer, didn't answer her immediately, but it didn't take her long. "Well, its kinda tough makin' yer own livin', but ya get used to it." Other questions followed. Answers were given by both Bright Eyes and Racetrack. There were questions about the Newsies, about the strike, lots of things. During this time, Miss Weathrop hadn't said a word, but when the questions had ceased, she spoke to Bright Eyes. "Bright Eyes, what is it like, being a girl Newsie amongst all of those boys? Isn't it hard? Doesn't your selling go worse because of who you are?"  
  
Bright Eyes heaved a sigh. She had expected a question like this, but she found it odd that it had come from the teacher. "Well, I don't care 'bout livin' wit' all dem boys. It don't bodder me. I get me own room fer me privacy an' stuff." "But what about your selling? Doesn't it go down because you are a girl?" Miss Weathrop interrupted. Bright Eyes looked a little pale when she spoke, and her voice trembled a little. "Me sellin' don't go any woise dan da udda's." Miss Weathrop sighed then pointed toward two chairs at the back of the room, indicating that it was time for the serious work to begin for the class. Bright Eyes sighed shakily and made her way down the aisle with Racetrack close behind her.  
  
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At three o'clock, the school session let out for the day. At the lunch break, Racetrack and Bright Eyes had left the school to get their own lunch at Tibby's, but were back by the time school started again. Bright Eyes stood by Racetrack as they smoked outside the school fence, David having made them promise to wait for him when school got out. "So whaddya tink Race?" Bright Eyes asked taking a drag out of the cigarette and blowing a smoke ring. "Its o.k. Wouldn't wanna be dere though. Wouldn't survive a minute wit dose goils!" Bright Eyes laughed. "Dey shoa couldn't keep dere eyes off ya could dey? Don't blame 'em!" She stopped laughing suddenly. "Didn't mean ta say dat Race." Racetrack grinned at Bright Eyes, his brown eyes twinkling. "Don't worry, I'll keep yer secret. I'm trustable." Bright Eyes grinned. "Trust woithy Race."  
  
The two then jumped when the school bell rang with a loud bang. Children poured out of the building yelling and screaming. When the children from David's class came out, they began to come towards the two Newsies and ask questions. One boy in particular was extremely curious. "What's it like to smoke a cigar?" He asked Racetrack, causing Bright Eyes to laugh out loud. Racetrack then began to swagger back and forth. "Well me friend, its very simple. Ya breathe in, blow out, ya breathe in, blow out. Dats it. Besides da question polls are closed." All the boys and girls moaned, the girls, Racetrack noticed, moaned particularly loudly. But they all scattered eventually, showing David shoving through the crowd.  
  
"So, how was it? Your first day at school?" David panted, excitedly. "Well ta tell ya da truth Dave, I don't know how ya's can go dere every day! I couldn't stand it!" Bright Eyes countered. "Well you get used to it after a while. Wanna come with me? I'm gonna see if I can sell any papes before dark." David asked, inwardly crossing his fingers for Bright Eyes' answer. "Naw Dave, me an' Bright gotta be gettin' back to da boys. Dey'll be wondrin' where we are." Racetrack replied while snuffing out his cigar on the sole of his shoe. Inwardly David gagged at the cigar as it lay smoking on the ground where Racetrack had thrown it, but he didn't show it. "Just Smile" was David's motto.  
  
"Well allright. I'll see you tomorrow 'kay? Carryin' the banner." David said, smiling a rather weak smile as he walked home to his parent's apartment. "Sometimes Dave tries too hard I think." Bright Eyes said softly to Racetrack. "Yeah, but he's a good kid all da same." Racetrack said as he picked some dirt out from under his fingernails. "Hey ya Bright. Ya wanna, I dunno walk wit' me? I wants ta show ya sometin'." Bright Eyes looked at Racetrack curiously. "But you told Dave dat we should be gettin' back." Racetrack blushed and looked down at the ground. "Well, da boys probably wouldn't mind if'n we went fer a little walk. And plus Bright, ya know 'is folks don't like 'im out very late!"   
  
"Racetrack, you little rat!" Bright Eyes grinned. Racetrack, sensing that he was in no danger of getting in trouble, grinned and motioned to Bright Eyes to follow him. They walked for a long time, talking, laughing, and telling numerous jokes that they had heard around the city. Finally they arrived at the gates of Central Park. Bright Eyes looked at Racetrack curiously as they walked through them. Then she was surprised when a blindfold was slipped over her eyes. She began to struggle but stopped at the sound of Racetrack's reassuring voice. "Don't ya worry Bright. I ain't gonna do nothin' to ya! Tought ya knew me betta dan dat!" Then he began to lead her down the numerous paths.  
  
Finally he stopped and his hands touched the blindfold. "Now, I's gonna take dis off ya. But I still wants ya ta keep yer eyes closed. Promise?" Bright Eyes nodded her head slowly. "Sure, just as long as ya take it off. I tink' I'm gonna hyperventilate hea!"  
Racetrack smiled and removed the blindfold. His hands then immediately went over Bright Eyes' eyes, drawing protest from her. "Hey Race! Don't ya trust me no more?"   
  
"Sua I trust ya. I'm jest waitin' fer the right time." He waited for about ten minutes with his hands on her eyes, waiting. Finally, his hands lifted. "O.k. now ya can look." A gasp escaped Bright Eyes' lips as she gazed at the spectacle before her. She was at the very edge of Central Park, near the waterside, and it was all ablaze with color. It was sunset. Red, orange, pink and yellow colors danced over the water and onto the trees. "Its beautiful." She breathed. "Yeah, beautiful." Racetrack murmured as he sat down on a park bench. "I comes here a lot. Da best site in da city. Its woith the trip jest ta see dis." Bright Eyes sat next to him and they sat side by side in silence, taking in nature's beauty.   
When night began to fall upon the city, the two stretched and stood from their bench. "Well what did ya think of it?" Racetrack asked Bright Eyes. Bright Eyes looked back over the now darkened harbor with a smile. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Tanks Race." "Cause uh," he started, "I was wondrin', if you had da time dat is, if you'd like ta see it again?" Bright Eyes smiled gently at the boy. "I wouldn't wanna see it wit' anyone else dan you." Racetrack blushed and took her hand as they walked home, talking over the Newsie's plans for the upcoming rally commemoration.  
  
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During this time, a woman with blond hair piled high on her head, snuck into the Pulitzer house. Ten minutes later, she emerged and began to count the money given to her. Then she ran off into the night.  
  
  
  



	5. Trying to Forget

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The next morning after discussing plans with the rest of the boys about the rally, Bright Eyes decided that she wanted to go to Brooklyn and talk to Spot about the rally. The Brooklyn leader's input was needed and she knew him better than everyone else. "Mainly boys, I know how to wheedle 'im inta doin' sometin' he doesn't 'specially want ta do!" Bright Eyes said and winked. She decided to take Jack and David. She took Jack because he was their leader and he could convey ideas easily to other people. She took David, mainly because he was the "Walkin' Mouth."   
  
The walk to Brooklyn was smooth. No one bothered them and Jack and Bright Eyes talked about places and things, while David stood off to the side and listened, often interjecting when he wanted to know about something. When they arrived in Brooklyn, Bright Eyes suddenly ran off towards a Newsie with bright red hair, dressed all in black save for a white shirt under his black vest. "Hiya Red! How's it rollin'?" The boy recognized her and clapped his hand on her back and gave her a quick hug. "Hey Bright! Haven't seen ya's in a while! Spot was gettin' testy." Bright Eyes grinned.   
  
"The ol'fogey. Where is ol' Spot? Need ta discuss some busness wit' him." Red smiled and pointed off to the direction of the docks. "He's takin' a break before the aftanoon edition comes out. Him an' some of da uddas." Bright Eyes smiled. "He sua likes dem docks, eva since he was little he'd be sittin' out dere befoa da aftanoon edition came out. Tanks Red! I'll see ya around!" Bright Eyes then relayed Spot's whereabouts to Jack and David, and the three set off towards the docks.  
  
When they arrived, a typical scene was stretched out before them. Boys were in the water splashing and playing, others were standing around the docks taking an afternoon smoke. As they approached greetings were sung out and a few claps on the back were distributed. They got to the center of the dock when they saw Spot. He was sitting in his usual place, up on top of a pile of crates watching the boys in the water like a king over his subjects, with a proud air. He turned around and noticed the three Newsies and smiled a pleased smile. "Well if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick. An' me own pal Brighty, who hasn't come ta see her ol'friend in a long time."   
Bright Eyes blushed and faked a sorrowful glance at Spot. "Sorry Spot, I jest lost track of da time. Don't hoit me, PLEASE!! I begs ya!!" She then burst into fake tears, drawing laughs around the pier and a rarely seen grin from Spot. That grin made David see why Bright Eyes still came back to Brooklyn. They were a second family to her, next to the Newsies in Manhattan. She had grown up with these boys, she knew them, all of them and they knew her. She could even bring out a smile in Spot Conlon, an incredible feat. This was her real home. "O.k., o.k. I forgives ya. An' ya brought da Walkin' Mouth. Oh joy. Somebody else ta spit poils o'wisdom at me like fireballs. Wondaful!" David avoided the small Newsie's glance and instead looked around the pier at the rest of the dirty, grubby boys. "So whaddya what guys? Anythin' new in ol' Manhattan?" Spot asked, still eyeing David.  
  
"Actually Spot, we wanted ta know if da boids been doin' dere job an' have been tellin' ya 'bout da rally c'memmoration ova at Medda's place?" Bright Eyes asked. Spot rubbed his chin and drew his slingshot. "Yeah, I heaid of it. Whats it to ya?" David suddenly spoke up. "We wanted to know if there was anything special that you thought we could do. I mean seeing that you were part of the rally and the strike and all, we wanted to know if, um, there was anything you wanted to tell us." During David's little interlude, Spot nodded his head simultaneously and when he had finished rolled his eyes.   
  
  
"Well Mouth, dere ain't really anytin' I think needs changin' I've hoid enough from me boys. Sounds fine wit' me. Is dere gonna be speeches Jackie boy?" Jack stepped up nearer to the crates as he spoke. "Yeah, if ya want ta speak dats fine. I'm sua dat everyone would like ta hea ya." Spot nodded, apparently pleased. "Sua, I'll do it. So is dat it?" Bright Eyes nodded. "Yup, jest wanted yer input Spot." Spot jumped down from the crates, spit on his hand and held it out to Bright Eyes. "See ya lata Bright. Come around sometime 'kay?" Bright Eyes did the same to her hand and shook with Spot. "Sua, I'll probably have tons of time afta dis rally ting is ova. Bye Spot." The two then let go of the other's hand and Spot moved on to Jack. Bright Eyes waited for Jack and David, and then the three made their way back to Manhattan to meet the rest of the Newsies at Irving Hall.  
  
The rest of the Newsies were not however outside Irving Hall. David began to panic, but Bright Eyes and Jack motioned him through the front door. When inside, they saw what had become of the Newsies. They were sitting in the front row, watching Medda perform, cheering and yelling all the while. "Boys." Bright Eyes said in exasperation as she made her way to an empty seat.   
  
As she was walking by the front row, Mush grabbed her hand. "Finally ya got here! What took ya so long?" "I was in Brooklyn, it takes a little while ta get back here ya know!" Bright Eyes had to shout over all the yelling. "Well, Race saved a seat for ya's. He's right in da middle of da foist row." Bright Eyes nodded and made her way to her seat, leaving David and Jack behind. David turned to Jack, confused. "Well, what about us? Don't we get a seat?" Jack rolled his eyes. " 'Course we do Dave. Ours jest wasn't saved."  
  
After the show, the Newsies met Medda backstage to discuss their plans for the rally. The rally date was set for the day after tomorrow, so it was unanimously decided to decorate the hall now, instead of later. Bows and ribbons were dragged out and the boys were set to work while Bright Eyes and Medda directed them. As Bright Eyes helped Racetrack put a ribbon up on a balcony, she began to remember the night of the rally. Some parts were fun and some still made her shudder when she thought of them. But it was as if that now that she was in the place that it happened, thinking about it was inevitable.  
  
It had been a warm night and the stars were shining bright in the sky. The whole rally had gone as planned, starting with speeches, and ending with the debate between David and Spot. Then came Medda's number. All around Bright Eyes, boys jumped up from their seats to get a glimpse of the entirely pink clad Medda. Bright Eyes stood up and merely clapped as whistles and cheers erupted. Racetrack stood beside her, waving his hat as if he were flagging down a train. She tugged on his arm and he looked at her with an inquiring look, to which she answered by shaking her head and grinning.  
  
During the middle of "High Times, Hard Times", Medda got to the second verse and decided that a little of the Newsie influence should be used for the song. Bright Eyes watched her green eyes scan the crowd for someone to sing with her, and Medda's gaze fell upon her. She then beckoned to her and Bright Eyes resisted, but eventually gave in as Medda pulled her up. As she sang, her voice floating with Medda's above the crowds of boys, her friends looked at her in bewilderment at her sudden transformation, causing a furious blush to arise in her cheeks.   
  
But finally the verse was over, and she jumped down from the stage and plopped down beside Spot, who was grinning over a glass of saspirilla as he watched his comrades dance with Medda. Spot smiled and punched Bright Eyes' arm as she sat down, winded from making her way through the boys. "Good job Brighty. Ya shoulda seen da boys! Dey neva heaid ya sing befoa, so dere mouths were WIDE open I tell ya!" Bright Eyes smiled and punched Spot's arm, causing saspirilla to fall on his sleeve. Spot looked at the stain and then at Bright Eyes' suddenly solemn face, with only a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, and started to laugh. Bright Eyes then got into the spirit of things and ran up to join Medda on the chorus with everyone else.  
  
By the time the song was over, complete pandemonium had broken out for Medda, who was hoisted up above the crowds. Then she saw David run over to Jack and yell something into his ear. Jack straightened and his face paled as he looked up towards the exits. Bright Eyes followed his gaze and saw Snyder standing with a whistle poised at his mouth, Denton talking hastily with him. Bright Eyes slipped out of the crowd just as Spot grabbed her arm and began pulling her toward an exit.   
  
Just then, the whistle blew and chaos erupted around the hall. Boys began to run everywhere. She managed to slip out of Spot's grasp to look behind her and see what had become of her friends. Blink was sliding down one of the poles of the balcony he had just been hanging precariously over edge of. She saw Bumlets heading out the door with one of the younger children under each arm. Mush and Dutchy were making their way to an exit, but were suddenly stopped by a policeman. She looked throughout the crowd for Racetrack, but he wasn't there. Suddenly she saw him and she breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
He was out of the fighting and was helping Medda to get out safely. But then he let go of her and deposited her with Toby and another friend and began to make his way into the center of the hall, Medda's persisting yells echoing behind him. Then Bright Eyes watched in horror as he stepped into the fighting and was met by large man who greeted him with a kick in the stomach, which he grasped, surprised. Bright Eyes' strangled a yell as the man smacked his fist into his head and plunged the boy into merciful unconsciousness. Medda saw this and reacted as Bright Eyes would've reacted. She ran up to the man and smacked him, yelling repeatedly as Racetrack was dragged off to the carts waiting outside.  
  
Even after Racetrack had been dragged out, the picture of his surprised face echoed in her mind. A fury then arose in Bright Eyes and she ran in the direction that Racetrack and the rest of her battered companions had been dragged. But she was suddenly slung backwards as Spot grabbed her arm and whirled her around to face him. "What da heck do ya tink yer doin'?" She tried persistently to free her trapped arm from Spot's grip as she yelled at him. "I gotta help da boys! Racetrack got smacked by some goon an' I gotta help him!" Spot regained his grip on Bright Eyes' arm as she nearly gained her freedom. "Whaddya gonna do Bright? Da only ting you can do would be ta join 'em! Dat wouldn't be helpin' 'em Bright, now come on!"   
  
"No!" Bright Eyes yelled into Spot's face. The boy's face hardened as he pulled the girl closer to him. "Listen Bright, I ain't seen ya eva go inta hysterics. Don't ya start now!" Then he pulled Bright Eyes away, the girl giving in to him at last. But suddenly they were surrounded by three boys, Morris Delancy included. Spot indicated the balcony to Bright Eyes and she jumped up the pole, Spot trailing behind her. But suddenly, a yell behind her caused Bright Eyes to look down from the balcony.   
  
Morris had Spot by the leg and Spot was kicking furiously, but to no avail. He couldn't hold onto the pole and try to kick Morris accurately at the same. Bright Eyes took a deep breath and jumped down from the balcony on one of the curtain ropes, hitting Morris in the face and freeing her companion. The two then ran toward another exit, but were again stopped by more and more men. "Dere's to many of 'em Spot!" Spot's forehead was crumpled up as he thought of another escape plan. But as he thought, Bright Eyes began to run, panicked at the sight of all the men and of her friends being beaten to a pulp.   
  
Bright Eyes heard Spot yell behind her, but she paid him no heed as she wrenched a boy free of the vise-like grip of another boy. The boy whirled around and punched her in the face and she fell to the ground clutching her jaw. The boy was just about to finish the job when strong arms grabbed her around the waist and began to pull her along the floor till they reached a corner out of the fighting. Spot lifted her up and grabbed her hand as they made their way to yet another exit.   
  
They finally reached the door and were in the process of getting out when someone grabbed her waist and threw her to the floor. Spot, feeling Bright Eyes' hand slip out of his own, whirled around to face the man who had done it. Spot threw up his fists and let them fly against the man's face unsparingly. But finally the man got a grip on the boy's shoulders and threw him to the floor. Bright Eyes yelled as she tried to get away from the other pair of arms that held her down. She then watched in horror as the man smacked Spot's head into the floor again and again until unconsciousness fell upon him. The man passed the sagging Spot into another man's hands.   
  
Bright Eyes yelled and screamed as she too was slung over the man's shoulder and taken out to one of the carriages. By some good fortune though, the man slipped and stumbled, allowing Bright Eyes to take advantage of it and to slip away. She ran down the main stairwell, getting lost in the vortex of all the other desperate boys. Then Jack's figure came into view at the bottom of the stairs, huddled up so as to escape a policeman's horse's hooves. Then he jumped up and ran up the stairs desperately. Bright Eyes' yelled his name and yelled for him to look up, but the boy was oblivious and her yells were drowned out in the commotion. Bright Eyes cringed as a large man smacked Jack in the face causing him to fall backwards into the waiting hands of policemen.  
  
She attempted to get to him to help him, but a burly mustached man came up behind her and shoved her head into the wall knocking the girl senseless, slumping down on the floor. When she came to, her head hurt like the devil and she was surrounded by her friends. Most of them anyway. Mush sat next to Blink, whose good eye was swollen and purple. Spot lay on the floor nearby, still unconscious. Around her another dozen of boys sat beside their friends attempting to nurse their wounds. "How ya doin' kid?" The drowsy voice came from Bright Eyes' right side. When she looked over, she moaned softly as she took in Racetrack's battered face. His eye was swollen and numerous bruises were forming all over his face. He still clutched his stomach where it had been punched not long ago.  
  
The boy watched her face as it suddenly saddened, and gave her a lopsided grin. "Oh don't worry, I ain't gonna die Bright! Dey jest roughed me up a little. Dat all comes from bein' a gentleman I guess." As he spoke Racetrack patted Bright Eyes' arm reassuringly. "You didn't get hoit dat bad. Yer lucky. Ol' Blink got knocked pretty bad, on both eyes." Bright Eyes clutched Racetrack's arm gently. "Dis was da woist night of me life. I saw all me friends get beat up, watched some of 'em get knocked unconscious. It was terrible." She whispered to Racetrack urgently. Racetrack smiled at her childlike sincerity, but winced as his bruises tensed. " C'mere. Ya've had quite a night."   
  
Bright Eyes smiled and took Racetrack's invitation, and laid her head gently on his shoulder. Then she sat up with a worried look on her face. "Dat don't hoit does it? 'Cause if it does," she started. "Its o.k. I'll be fine. Ya need a little rest 'fore tomorrow. Interrogation day don't ya know. An' ya sua as heck won't get any sleep in da refuge." Bright Eyes smiled slightly and her head again rested on his shoulder, her eyes eventually closing in merciful sleep. Eventually, Racetrack's head drooped and rested on the girl's head as he too fell into a deep sleep.  
  
"Hello? I now summon Bright Eyes back into the land of the living! Brighty? Anybody in dere?" Bright Eyes jumped as Racetrack's hand waved back and forth in front of her eyes, that had been previously unseeing. "I need dat udda pin Bright." Bright Eyes quickly found the pin and handed it to Racetrack, who was balancing on the edge of the balcony putting up the ribbons. Bright Eyes hesitated for a moment as she watched him, but then she timidly asked, "Race, are you worried dat sometin's gonna happen ta dis rally like what happened at da last one?"   
  
Racetrack looked down at her as he fastened the last ribbon and moved his body up and over the railing. "Not really. Its not even a rally, ya know? Why? Are you?" Bright Eyes blushed. "Well maybe a little bit." Racetrack smiled at the girl's agitation. "Don't worry 'bout it. No one will bodder us. Its jest a little ceremony. Nothin' ta attract da bulls ner nothin'. So don't worry 'bout it. Let us men do da worryin'!" Bright Eyes laughed at the boy's cockiness. Sometimes it could be annoying and other times it was all that kept her going in a day.   
  
Jack sauntered over to oversee the job that the two had done, and nodded his head, his black cowboy hat bobbing up and down. "Dat looks good Race. Nice job Bright. We're pretty nea done ova on our side. We'll probably get done wit' it all teday actually. We'll go ta Tibby's aftawoids. Dat o.k.?" Racetrack nodded and grinned as he clutched a recently lit cigar in his right hand. "Yeah, we'll get done pretty soon. If Bright Eyes' head will get out of da clouds!" Bright Eyes looked up at him and glared. Jack smiled secretly to himself as he watched them. 'I wonda if dey even know how pictua poifect dey look tegetha.' He thought as he watched them.   
  
Then Jack shook his head and walked off as Bright Eyes scolded Racetrack about smoking right by the ribbons, to which he questioned why he couldn't. "Its a free country Brighty! I can smoke by ribbons if'n I wants ta!" Bright Eyes rolled her eyes as she yelled up at him again. "Because what if some ashes were ta fall on 'em? Dey'd get boined up an' den we wouldn't have no ribbons!" Racetrack grinned slyly and leaned forward as far as he could and as close to the ribbons as possible and began to flick ashes near them. Bright Eyes groaned at his stubbornness. "Good grief Race! I'm gonna find someone else to help who will actually listen to me! Ya stubborn pig!" As she stormed off Racetrack yelled, "Yeah? Well it takes one ta know one!" Cheers and laughter surrounded Racetrack as he grinned at the departing girl. 'Its so fun watchin' her tempa get up.' Racetrack thought as he waved his hands over his head at his admirers.  
  
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In a way she was glad that she could have an excuse to leave. On the other hand, Bright Eyes felt like a dirty rat. 'I cain't believe dis! I'm snoopin' around da hall lookin' fer a way fer Pulitzer's men ta get in hea! I don't wanna do dis! But I don't want me fatha comin' back eitha. I'd be dead in two weeks if he came back! I gotta do dis.' Bright Eyes thought as she searched the place, carefully avoiding the working Newsies as she did so. Finally she remembered the door at the back of the hall that she and the other Newsies usually used when they were being chased. 'Most likely no one would be back dere durin' da rally. Its poifect.' Then Bright Eyes clenched her fists determinedly and ran out the door, aiming for Pulitzer's home.  
  
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Bright Eyes stepped up the gigantic steps of Pulitzer's home and approached the enormous wooden door. " 'Minds me of a prison doors." Bright Eyes muttered as she pulled hard on the bell. Seitz opened it and peered cautiously from behind it. "Yes, what is it?" Bright Eyes gulped then straightened defiantly. "I wanna see Joe. He said ta come back afta I did what he wanted." Seitz frowned then his face smoothed out as he remembered his orders. "Yes of course. Come in. I'll fetch the Chief." Bright Eyes stepped inside and the doors closed behind her. Seitz took her into the large reception room that she had first seen Pulitzer in and plopped down in the large easy chair to wait.  
  
Upstairs, Joseph Pulitzer and another man were talking in brisk tones with each other. The man was tall and burly. His head was topped with a shock of bright red hair and his eyes were a piercing blue. As he spoke to Pulitzer, occasionally a slip of the tongue would reveal a slight Irish accent, worn away from his time away from his homeland. "So you're sure that she'll do it Pulitzer?" the man asked nervously. "Positive. She seemed positively terrified at the thought of her father coming back again." The Irish man shook his head. "Yes well, my brother was a very abusive man I'm afraid. When his wife died giving birth to Shailagh, well it destroyed him, mentally at least."  
  
Pulitzer eased himself against his desk, hand on cheek in thought. "I thought her name was Anne." " It is. But her father knew her specifically by that name, and I suppose that she wanted to throw him off the track by calling herself Anne, which is her middle name. She really does not want him to find her." The man said sadly. After a brief moment of silence, Pulitzer straightened and began to pace around the room. "So you say you can act your brother Mr. O'Connor?" As the man spoke, his chin rose almost defiantly before the newspaper monarch. "Please, call me Andrew, Mr. Pulitzer. Mr. O'Connor is so formal. And yes, I can act my brother. I am a professional actor of the stages of New York City, I suppose that I can act my own brother!"  
  
"Yes, yes of course. I don't think that you should make your grand appearance just yet though. You'll come into play when she begins to refuse what I ask of her. Then she'll be frightened into doing what I ask." Pulitzer said proudly. "Are you sure that she'll do this? From what you've said she is rather attached to those, what do you call them? Newsies?" O'Connor said, doubtfully. "I'm positive Andrew. She'll do it. Her love for the Newsies is nothing compared to the fear of her father. I have several witnesses to that." Pulitzer reassured the actor. Suddenly, a knock on the door caused the men to freeze. "Who is it?" Pulitzer called out. "Seitz, Chief. The Bright Eyes girl is here to see you. She says that she's done what you asked her to do."   
  
Pulitzer smiled then turned to O'Connor. "What did I tell you? Send her in Seitz." Then O'Connor motioned toward the closet, to which Pulitzer nodded quickly. The man snuck into the closet and gently closed the door as Bright Eyes entered the room. The girl's face was pale but determined as she lifted her chin defiantly. "I done what ya asked me to Joe. Its da backstage door on da back of Anton street. I hope yer happy!" Pulitzer smiled and patted her on the back while she cringed at his touch.   
  
"I am, very happy." Bright Eyes shrugged the old man's hand off of her back and began to walk silently towards the door. "Well good. Any more ordas fer me, my Liege?" The old man smiled at the girl's cynical tone as she opened the door, obviously nervous though she hid it well. "That is all for now. You can go." Bright Eyes only too happy consented to his wishes and the sound of the pounding of her footsteps resounded throughout the house. O'Connor stepped out of the closet and stared at Pulitzer, who gave him a knowing look and offered him a cigar.  
  
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By this time, Bright Eyes knew that the boys would be at Tibby's ordering their dinner and so she made her way to the restaurant with all the speed she could muster. When she reached Tibby's out of breath, she was relieved the see the Newsies just then entering the building. 'Great! I can slip in an' not even be noticed!' Bright Eyes thought happily as she snuck in the midst of the crowds of boys. "Well if'n it ain't da prodigal son? Or shall I say dawta?" Racetrack yelled above the din, causing all the boys around him to laugh as Bright Eyes put her hands on her hips. "I have da right ta go somewheas if'n I wants ta Racetrack Higgins!" All around the boys began to chant, "Oooooooooo." Because everyone knew that when Bright Eyes used your last name she was mad, but if she used your full name, she was really mad. Fortunately for Racetrack, she was only partially mad.   
  
As Bright Eyes made her way away from her usual table with Jack, Racetrack, Kid Blink and Mush, Racetrack yelled to her, "Aw come on Brighty! I was only kiddin'!" Bright Eyes paused near an empty table, then shrugged and took her usual spot next to the boys. "What'll you have miss?" The waiter asked as Bright Eyes told Jack a joke she had heard on the street, causing him to grin ear to ear. "I'll have da hot dawg an' a saspirilla I tink." Bright Eyes said off-handedly as the waiter jotted down her order and moved to the next boy. "Hey Brighty? Where did ya go dis aftanoon?" Racetrack's voice whispered in her ear causing, though she didn't mean to, shivers to run up and down her spine.   
  
"I jest wanted ta get some fresh air." Bright Eyes said abruptly. Just as Racetrack was going to question Bright Eyes further, she was saved by a familiar figure trooping into the diner. She then cupped her hands and yelled out, "Well if'n it ain't da infamous Spot Conlon, lowerin' 'imself ta have dinna wit' da likes of us! Lets 'ave a round of applause fer 'im fer his bravery!" Cheers and clapping resounded all around the room as Spot began to mutter, but smile all the same as he slipped into Bright Eyes' booth, squeezing in next to Kid Blink and Mush. "Do ya really hafta do dat Bright? A simple hello woulda been all right!" Spot said with his notorious coy smile that earned him so many female admirers in New York.  
  
Bright Eyes grinned and gulped some of her saspirilla. "Well nothin' simple would do fer da leada of da Brooklyn Newsies. Ain't dat what yer always tellin' me?" Spot rolled his eyes and gave his order, then turned back to the group. "So ya ready fer da rally Spot?" Jack questioned. Spot shrugged, unperturbed. "Yeah I guess dat I am. Gotta little speech ta give dat I guess will do." Bright Eyes' face lit up as Spot sipped his saspirilla. "Oh tell me it Spot! Please!"   
  
Spot sat up alarmingly and gazed into the girl's expectant face. "I cain't do dat! Den it wouldn't be a surprise ya know dat Brighty!" Bright Eyes face fell and she took to stirring her drink with her straw. Spot watched her for a minute, rolled his eyes and looked to the other boys faces for the determining factor. "Fine then. Here goes. Welcome fella Newsies! We's gathered hea, ta c'mmemorate da rally we had a yea ago against da Woild!" Spot then proceeded to tell his speech with all the pride and glamor he was capable of, as his friends and peers looked on admiringly, especially a pair of big, bright, glistening blue eyes.  
  
  
  



	6. The Rally

  
  
The next day went by quickly. The Newsies finished the hall and then began to finish planning out the evening. But soon the grand day was upon them and the hall was becoming crowded with boys and girls alike. Bright Eyes refused to wear the blue dress that Sarah pressed her to wear and instead, wore her best pair of pants and nicest shirt and cap. "Please Bright Eyes! Just this once! You would make all the boys stare if they saw you like this!" Bright Eyes rolled her eyes as she pulled on her shirt. "Please Sarah! Dats exactly what I don't wanna do! I'm their friend, one of da guys. If I put on dat dress, I wouldn't be dat. I would be someone who is to be pampered an' all dat goily stuff. I won't do dat Sarah an' dats final!"  
  
And it was final. Bright Eyes stormed out of the dressing room, leaving an exasperated Sarah sitting with the blue dress in her lap. Then Sarah pulled her dress out of the bag she had brought. It was the one she had worn at the first rally, the white frilly one, with the straw hat. She had curled her hair to go with the outfit, hoping for some reason, that Jack would notice. 'But why would he notice me? He doesn't care about me! Its so hard to hate him though, because, I still love him.' Sarah thought with a sigh. Then she began to undress so she could put on the frilly contraption.  
  
When the Newsies arrived at Irving Hall, they were surprised and ecstatic at finding almost 3\4's of the place full. They quickly ducked inside and began making their way to their reserved seats in the front row. As she made her way down the aisle, Bright Eyes heard a low whistle behind her. She turned and saw Oscar Delancy in one of the seats towards the back. The boy winked at her and she whirled back around and began to plow her way towards the seats. She ran straight into Skittery who in turn tripped, almost falling down amongst the mob, had it not been for Bright Eyes' hands. "Geez Bright! Yer in a hurry! We'll get dere in plenty of time! Whassa matta? Ya look like ya've seen a ghost!" Bright Eyes gulped nervously as she followed Skittery. "I tink I did."  
  
When she reached her seat, she slumped down into it and put her head in her hands. 'What am I doin'? Dis is wrong! I let Pulitzer in here, an' da Delancy's too! Dey'll moida us! I gotta do sometin'! I cain't though. If I do, I get pummeled by good old Papa. But if I don't, me friends get hoit. Oh God, please help me!' She thought, pressing her hands against her head. "Excitin' ain't it Bright?" Racetrack's sudden excited voice behind Bright Eyes, made her jump suddenly, surprising Racetrack. "Hey whassa matta wit' ya? Yer as jumpy as a polecat!" The boy protested, looking into her face, concern spreading over his features.   
  
Bright Eyes fidgeted with her hair and twisted it around her finger. "It ain't anytin' Race. Don't worry 'bout me." Racetrack still looked at her with anxiety despite her reassurances. "I do worry 'bout ya Bright. More dan you know." He muttered under his breath as the curtains of the stage opened and Medda stepped out with Jack, David and Spot. Yells echoed throughout the auditorium as the commemoration speeches and debates began. Bright Eyes forgot her troubles for a moment as she watched her friends with pride and showed it with her cheers adjoining with her fellow Newsies.  
  
She had almost completely forgotten her troubles by the time Medda began to sing at the end of the rally, but they arose again when she saw Morris Delancy sneaking into the back wing where the backstage door was located. Bright Eyes shrunk into her seat and instead of watching Medda, watched the rustling velvety red curtains behind her. Bright Eyes' ears then picked up a slight whistle from behind the curtains, during the slow part of "High Times, Hard Times" when the auditorium was finally silent for a few moments. She slunk down further into her seat and moaned. Racetrack glanced at her with concern. "Are you all right?" Bright Eyes shot up from her seat and began to speak to Racetrack in short harsh whispers. "We've gotta get everyone outta here now! Sometin's gonna happen and,"   
  
All of a sudden, without warning, the curtains burst open, causing Medda to stop singing abruptly and turn around in surprise. All eyes were on the stage, which was now overflowing with boys and men, each beginning to attack the visitors. Fights began to ensue and the boys were fighting with all their might and trying to get the girls and young children out without injury. Racetrack grabbed Bright Eyes hand and attempted to drag her toward an exit. "No Race! I gotta stay an' help!" Racetrack pulled her arm insistently. "No way! You'd get hoit fer sua!"   
  
Bright Eyes yanked her arm out of Racetrack's grasp and stood, gasping. "I gotta stay! I'm not a sissy goil now! I'm one of ya, an' I'm not gonna let us go down widout a fight!" With that Bright Eyes was lost to Racetrack's vision as she slipped through the crowd. Bright Eyes attacked the first opposition she saw, who happened to be a tall blonde headed boy who was fighting with a boy named Dusty who she had seen around the Bronx. She dashed into the fight and her fist flew into the blonde boy's stomach. When he collapsed, she went for another boy and another, practically blind with the punching and kicking of this war.  
  
Then in a corner, she saw David trying to defend himself against two of Oscar Delancy's friends. They had him trapped and were beating him against the wall, punching his face, stomach, and just about everywhere else. The boy was on the brink of unconsciousness when he saw a girl plow through the hazy mist, accompanied by a boy who looked like Spot and another boy he thought was Mush. The girl and the two boys quickly finished the job that David had been too weak to do as he lay slumped against the wall, bruises forming upon his face. Then Bright Eyes stooped over him and patted his back as the boy David figured was Spot, kept punching a boy who was already on the ground, that is until Mush stopped him.   
  
"Heya Davey. Ya okay? Did dey hoit ya real bad? Not yer mouth I hope?" Bright Eyes questioned, concerned. David laughed scornfully. "Yeah, thats the only thing I'm good for around here. My mouth! I can't fight! I can't do anything useful to you! I might as well leave!" Bright Eyes watched David during his temper tantrum with eyebrows raised until he finished. " Listen Davey, if ya cain't fight, obseaive! Dere are tons of boys out dere fightin' dere life away! Take notes an' do all dat studyin' stuff ya do in dat school! Now get to it!" Then the girl patted him on the back and took off, clobbering a boy in the head as she swept by.   
  
David shook his head and jumped up. "Hey kid! Ya wit' dis crowd?" David whirled around to face the bulky boy standing in front of him. "I don't know. Which side are you on?" The boy was taken aback and when he answered David his forehead was furrowed into many confused lines. "Um, I'm on Osca's side." David smiled. "Well then I guess I'm on the other side!" With that, David smacked the boy's stomach and watched him groan and crumple to the floor in amazement. "Hey come on Mout'! We gots woik ta do!" Spot yelled as he landed a black eye on another unfortunate individual. David grinned and took off into the fray.  
  
Meanwhile, Bright Eyes was holding her own against the hoodlums. The Newsies were getting a fierce pounding, but they were holding their own against the men and boys commissioned by Pulitzer. "Bright Eyes! Bright Eyes help!!" Her name was shouted above the clamor given off by the fighters. Bright Eyes turned around and attempted to find the speaker. She found him in the arms of a boy from Brooklyn, Crusher, who wasn't called that for nothing. He was one of the best fighters in Brooklyn and he was about to punch the living daylights out of the boy. The boy was Les. "Hey Crusher stop it! Don't!"  
  
Bright Eyes pushed her way through the crowd just as Crusher pounded Les senseless. The boy's small body slid to the floor in a crumpled heap. Bright Eyes sprang upon Crusher, who taken by surprise, held his hands above his face and grabbed her hands as they reached him. "Bright Eyes?" Bright Eyes struggled against the strong arms holding her fast to keep her from tearing him apart. "Yeah! Why'd ya do dat fer? Let me go!" Crusher grabbed hold of Bright Eyes, slung her over his shoulder and made his way toward an exit. Bright Eyes kicked and pounded but was unable to hit him anywhere that would enable her to get free.   
  
He surprised the girl by running out of the building completely and slinging her to the ground in the alley nearest to the theater. "Pulitzer told all of us dat if we saw ya's, we would make sua ya weren't in da fightin'. Ta keep ya safe an' seal yer bargain. But I gots ta do dis ta keep ya from running off." Bright Eyes looked into Crusher's face uncomprehendingly as he took her shoulders and slammed her into the wall. She blacked out almost instantly, and Crusher propped her body up against the wall, then hurried back into Irving Hall.  
  
About three hours later, Bright Eyes woke up with a pounding headache. She felt the large bump on the back of her head with a slight groan and stood up. She looked around her and started. The place was deserted. The hall doors were wide open, and trash was everywhere. She dashed in through the doors and stood stock still. Inside the doorway and the foyer, was littered with the unconscious bodies of boys. After recovering from the initial shock of it all, Bright Eyes began to pick her way through them, looking for just one familiar face. She found one. Just inside the doorway into the main body of the hall, lay Kid Blink, stomach side down, unmoving.   
  
She dashed over to him and flipped him over. She stared down into his face. His face was purple with bruises, his lip cut in two different places, and his eyes. The flap of the brown eye patch always worn and kept down by Blink was open. Across the lid of the swollen eye, was a jagged scar stretching across its length. Bright Eyes didn't dare see what was under the swollen lid, but swallowed and flipped the patch downward again. She began to shake her friend till he finally came to.   
  
He grabbed his head as he sat up quickly and groaned. "Oh my head! Bright, where'd ya go? We looked fer ya everywhea!" Bright Eyes helped the boy sit up and supported his back. "We? Who else was wit' ya Blink?" Blink rubbed his face as he thought, feeling the bruises. "Me an' Spot. He couldn't find ya an' he was worried 'bout ya. He tried ta get away from 'em by climbin' da balcony, but I blacked out 'fore I could see if he'd made it or not."  
Bright Eyes jumped up and began to scan the floor under the balcony nearest to Blink. As she did so, Blink managed to get to his feet and began to wander the halls shaking boys and trying to wake them up. At length, Bright Eyes finally saw the small figure of the Brooklyn leader lying under the pillar of the balcony near where she had found Blink. She ran to him and knelt down. His face was as still as death, his right hand still clutched tightly his beloved cane. The crown of his head still covered by his hat, was covered in blood. Bright Eyes slowly eased the cap off of his head and looked beneath. Under the cap, the sandy brown hair was drenched in blood. Bright Eyes carefully ran her fingers through it, attempting to find the wound. It was located near the back of the top of his head. She whipped off her cap and lay Spot's cap on top of it. Then she gently eased his head on top of the makeshift pillow. "Blink! I need ya ta get a docta! We need one bad!"   
  
That was the start of the long night, which evolved into early morning. The doctor came and Spot, along with several other boys were taken to the hospital for examination and treatment. Among them were several of her friends, Jack, Mush, Skittery, Snipeshooter, David and Racetrack. Racetrack almost wasn't found, his body having been hidden behind the curtain. It was only by a shrill screech from Medda that they found him. When Bright Eyes and the doctor rushed backstage, Medda was cradling his head in her lap as she attempted to stop the bleeding from a jagged cut in his arm. The weapon: a steel pipe ripped off of one of the fallen chandeliers. After this patient was taken away, Bright Eyes, having collapsed from exhaustion, was taken to Medda's quarters and there spent the rest of the day sleeping, and dreaming terrible dreams.  
  
@--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------@  
  
  
"Mmmmm. Medda? Race? Spot?" Bright Eyes sat up in the strange bed, wondering where she was and what had happened. She had hoped that the whole thing with the rally, had been a dream. The bump on her head convinced her of the truth. Bright Eyes limped out of bed and out of the room in order to find her friend. She found Medda in the midst of the hall, fingering a piece of paneling ripped off the balcony during the pandemonium. "Are ya okay Medda? If ya want yer bed back, ya can have it." Medda turned to face Bright Eyes slowly and shrugged. "No I don't think so. I don't need it, you can have it for now dearie."  
  
Bright Eyes put her arm around the actress slowly as she continued to finger the wood. "How am I going to pay for all of this? I don't have this kind of money. I have to pay half because I half own the place, what am I going to tell them? Oh if only Francis," Medda stopped abruptly as soon as she uttered the final word and held her hand to her mouth. Bright Eyes looked at the woman with a mix of alarm and concern. "Who, who's Francis, Medda?" The woman stared into space for a moment, then turned and looked at the girl uneasily. "Bright Eyes, do you remember when I told you once that I loved someone, but tried not too?" Bright Eyes answered with a slow understanding nod. "Well, Francis, he was the one I loved. His name was," Here Medda stopped as if summoning up the courage to finish what she had begun. "Francis Sullivan."   
  
Bright Eyes started, recognizing the familiar name. "Not Jack, my dear. His father. His father was Francis Patrick Sullivan. I couldn't love him, because, he was married already, to a lovely girl named Carra. I had known Francis since we were children. But he was always on the move. And then he married Carra." Medda sighed, distinctly. "They had three children, Francis, or Jack as he calls himself, Andrew, and Liam. The two youngest were twins. They died two months short of their eighth birthday. It, destroyed Francis and he started to drink. He killed Carra in a drunken rage. He ran to me pleading for help. After he told me what he had done, I threw him out, and called the police. He was charged with manslaughter in the first degree and sentenced to prison for life."  
  
"So, does Jack remember any of this?" Bright Eyes asked hesitantly. Medda laughed. "Of course. He lived with me for a few months afterwards. He was 12 when he left to join the Newsies. The last I heard from him was that he was having a wonderful time, had lots of friends, and was a regular leader among them. He didn't abandon me though. He came and visited time and time again. He couldn't stay away from this place for very long. Then the strike came, and as scholars say, the rest is history. But please don't tell anyone, and don't tell Jack that I told you. Granted, he can trust you, but still, for me." Bright Eyes nodded and Medda sighed with relief. "Well, how is the one you love?" Bright Eyes looked away, cheeks burning scarlet. "I was gonna see him an' da uddas teday, if dey let me." Medda smiled and patted her back. "Well don't let me keep you waiting! Go, go!" Medda gave the girl a little push, she in turn smiled at the woman and trotted out of the theater at a fast pace.   
@----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------@  
Bright Eyes paused on the steps of the St. John's Hospital in Manhattan. She wasn't sure whether to proceed or run. She decided on the former and made her way up the stairs and into the lobby of the hospital itself. She gulped as she stood awkwardly in the clean, whitewashed lobby. A nurse at the front desk looked up as Bright Eyes walked in, and looked her over. "Excuse me? Miss?" Bright Eyes jumped and turned to run, fearing that she was in trouble, but when she saw the young smiling face behind the desk she calmed down and stepped over to the girl. "Yeah, I was um, wonderin' if'n ya had some info on da boys brought hea last night?"  
  
The nurse smiled pleasantly. "Oh yes, of course. I guessed that they were whom you came to see. Only three can have visitors though. The others need rest." With that the nurse picked up a clipboard and motioned to Bright Eyes who followed her down a long white hall. "Um, hopin' ya don't mind if'n I ask, but um, who can be seen?" The nurse looked down at her clipboard and scanned the list.   
  
"The boys we took in could not tell us their names at the time, but we obtained information from one of the boy's parents. His name was David Jacobs. The other two boys only woke up this morning. One's name was Jack Kelly, the other a boy who called himself Racetrack. Unusual to say the least." Bright Eyes laughed at the girl's misunderstanding of their names. "Naw! Dat ain't his real name! His real name is Anthony, but don't tell no one I told ya dat. He'd get mad if someone started callin' 'im Anthony again!" The nurse laughed as she realized her mistake and turned into another long corridor.  
  
Then she stopped outside a door with a glass window. Bright Eyes peeked in expectantly. She saw rows and rows of beds filled with sick people. The nurse suddenly tapped her on the shoulder. "I was wondering if you could tell me the names of some of the other boys. You seem to know them pretty well." Bright Eyes nodded and the nurse opened the door with a smile. The rest of the visit was spent visiting and identifying the Newsies that were brought in. Though she could not identify all of them, she could identify most of them. After that business was taken care of though, Bright Eyes insisted that she see Jack, David and Racetrack. When she went to David's door and peeked in the window, she saw his family gathered around his bed, watching him sleep.   
  
Bright Eyes decided that David was in good hands for the time being and moved on. She glanced at the slip of paper with Jack and Racetrack's room numbers on it. Jack and Racetrack were right next door. "How convenient." She muttered. She decided to see Jack first. After peeking in and seeing that he was awake and was shuffling through a paper, she knocked. "Come in if ya gotta. I warn ya though, I don't tink its time fer anotha shot jest yet!" Bright Eyes smothered her giggles with her hand, tried her best to put on a serious expression and waltzed through the door.  
  
"Now Mista Kelly, time for some entatainment shots!" Bright Eyes said in a queer voice. Jack looked up startled, then laughed when he saw his friend taking bows in the center of the room to an imaginary audience. "Please, please hold your applause! How ya doin' Cowboy?" Bright Eyes questioned as she plopped herself on the bed beside him. "Well, I'm doin' alright now I guess. Got me leg cut open an' a few bruises. Docs say dat I might be able ta be on my feet in a couple of days."   
  
Bright Eyes grinned, the smile spreading to all corners of her face. "Great Cowboy! Ya keep gettin' betta now an' we'll have ya home in no time!" Jack in turn smiled, then yawned hugely. "Ya tired Jackey boy? If dats so, I'll leave. I got anotha patient ta visit anyway." Jack yawned again. "Yeah Bright. If ya don't mind. Dat docta gave some of dem sleepin' pills. I tink dat dere takin' effect." Bright Eyes kissed Jack on the forehead and tiptoed slowly out of the room as she watched him pull the covers up to his neck and roll over.  
  
She closed the door silently and then headed to the room next to his on the right. She silently peeked through the glass window on the door. The bed was empty, the sheets twisted over and around each other. Concerned, Bright Eyes opened the door and walked in. "Race? Racetrack?" A grunt sounded from the right side of the room. Bright Eyes looked over and groaned. Racetrack was standing up, bandages and all, dressed in his regular clothes except for his shirt, which he was struggling to get on. His head shot up as Bright Eyes called his name, but dropped again and began concentrating on putting his shirt on without hurting his arm. "Hey Bright. I know what yer gonna say, but I ain't gonna sit in dat hospital bed all day an' night! I won't do it! An' in dese duds! Gee whiz! I'd ratha wea stuff wit' fleas in 'em!"   
  
"Come on Race. Can't you follow the rules fer once? Yer hoit! Ya should be restin'! Ya split yer arm wide open a couple hours ago! Da doc said dat ya could see da bone! Ya need ta rest!" Bright Eyes protested as she proceeded to unbutton his shirt that he had just buttoned up. He threw his arms up in disgust, wincing as his sore arm lifted. "But Brighty, I don't wanna! Da last time I came ta one of dese here hospitals, I, was scared! I hate dis place!" Bright Eyes slowly and gently eased the shirt sleeve off of the boy's hurt arm as she spoke quietly. "Da last time? When was dat?" Racetrack groaned slightly as the shirt came off again. "When me pop was on a rampage. Trashed up everybody. Gotta scar unda me eyebrow. Smashed a beer bottle 'gainst it, an' it broke. Gotta piece of, OW! Careful Bright! Gotta piece of glass stuck in it. Had ta git stitches."   
Bright Eyes took the bloodied shirt, folded it and laid on the chair and began to help Racetrack back into the bed. "I ain't gonna make ya wea dat hospital garb. Its too uncomfortable, I can tell. An' if da nurse comes in, cova up." Racetrack settled into the bed with a sigh and pulled up the sheets. "Hey Bright danks fer bein' around. I missed ya an' da guys." Racetrack said, falteringly. Bright Eyes smiled softly and sat on the edge of the bed. "I missed ya too Race. I'm sorry fer all dis."   
  
Racetrack frowned. "Whaddya mean yer sorry? It weren't yer fault!" Bright Eyes glanced away and played with the covers. "I guess, well I'm jest sorry dats all." Seeing the bewilderment in Racetrack's drowsy eyes, Bright Eyes smiled and smoothed down a sweaty tuft of hair. "Jest git some rest Race. 'Kay? Get betta fer me." Racetrack smiled dozily. "I promise ta get betta fer yer sake Brighty. But now, time ta sleep." He murmured with a yawn. Bright Eyes smiled and slowly walked out of the room and shut the door quietly.  
  
That night Bright Eyes dreamed as she never had before. She dreamed about her life. From her earliest memories to the most recent. She dreamed of the mother she had barely known, and of her abusive drunkard father. She dreamed of her little sister Angela, who was killed by an oncoming carriage when she skipped across the street to meet her.  
She dreamt of the beatings she and her family would receive instead of greetings whenever her father came home drunk. Just when she thought that it would never end, she dreamt of her first visit to Brooklyn, and her meeting with the cocky boy with a black cane selling papers outside the orphanage where she had temporarily taken refuge.   
  
She remembered the first words spoken between the two of them. "Boy? Hello. I was wondering if you could recommend a place for me to stay." The boy's face had crumpled with a slight frown. "Don't know of one dat would take little goils, nope. Why? Don't ya like da orphanage?" Her small face had wrinkled with disgust as the boy looked at her with amusement. "No indeed! Its smelly and da food is disgusting! An' some of da matrons is really nasty!" After a moments pause, she had glanced at the papers by the boy's heels curiously. "Is that hard ta do? To sell papers?" The boy grinned. "Not in da least! Ya jest improve da headline. Take dis one fer example. 'Biting ants found on Liberty Island.' We change dat to, 'Crazed Individuals bite sight seers at Liberty Island.' Ya see? Nothin' to it!"   
  
Bright Eyes had smiled and laughed whimsically. "I'd like to sell papers I think. I need a place to stay and somthing to eat. Thats my trouble." The boy grinned coyly. "Ya couldn't have run inta a more poifect person ta find all dat stuff. Me names Conlon. Spot Conlon at yer service. An' da Lodgin' House could put ya up fer a time, till ya find a betta place ta stay if ya want." Her face lit up as the boy bowed charmingly and offered his arm which she took gladly. Then they skipped down the street seeing how fast they could go before they fell down. As they did so, Spot showed her his numerous treasures causing her to praise them and him, creating a blush of pride on the boy's cheeks.  
  
She hadn't left any time soon, but became one of the boys. She very soon learned to play poker from a boy named Spades and became Spot's rival in the game soon after. Bright Eyes remembered coming home to the Lodging House and each of the boys there would tell their stories of that afternoon. No matter how cold it got, it seemed like the Lodging House was always warm and cozy. She remembered in the nighttime, she and the other boys would occasionally practically bring the house down with their dancing. An Irish boy named Arthur, but everyone christened Fiddles, had brought his fiddle that his father had brought from Ireland to the Lodging House as his only possession. But with the fiddle, came the songs he had memorized over time.   
  
Songs such as Scarce O'Tatties, Roscarbury, Ballinasloe and Muenster Cloak rang throughout the house accompanying the sounds of attempts at Irish dance that Fiddles tried to teach them until late hours of the night. When all the boys unanimously decided that bed was the place to be, Fiddles would play soft, slow songs that lulled her to sleep each night. The songs echoed through her sleepy head as she dreamed of Fiddles, a lone black shadow sitting on his stool in front of the fire's glow, easing the bow gently across the strings, playing to draw Sleep's kiss across each of the boys. But every night before Fiddles retired, he would play his special song for Bright Eyes in his whimsical Irish tones, 'White, Orange, and Green.' The song now echoed through the girl's mind as she slept peacefully.  
  
In the Boulgoughty Mountains so far, far away,  
I'll tell you a story that happened one day,  
About a young girl and her age was sixteen,  
And she carried a banner, white, orange, and green.  
  
And the young English soldier was passing the way,  
Saw the young girl with her banner so gay,  
He laughed and he choked and got off his machine,  
Returning to capture white, orange, and green.  
  
'Oh ya can't have my banner,' the young girl replied,  
'Tis yer blood and mine on the Boulgoughty's line,  
I am a rebel and thats nothing new,   
but I'd lay down my life for white, orange and green.'  
  
The young English soldier turned white as the snow,  
Got on his machine and away he did go,  
For there's no use in fightin' a girl of sixteen,  
Who would die for a banner white, orange, and green.  
  
  
All of a sudden, Bright Eyes awoke with a start, the lyrics still sounding even though she was now awake. She glanced around the room to find the singer, but to no avail. Then she ran to a window near her bed and looked down in the streets. There stood a boy, singing the song with all his might as he held out his cap for coins. Bright Eyes heaved a sigh of relief, pulled up her suspenders and jumped the Lodging House stairs two at a time.  
  
As she stepped out the door, she rushed to the singing boy and thrust a few coins in his hat. He smiled at her and bowed with a flourish. "Thank ya kindly me lady! Been needin' that extra boost! But aren't ya no better an' me? Shouldn't ya be savin' it now?" Bright Eyes patted the boy on the back. "Nope, don't need it. Ya need it more. Besides, it was wonderful." The boy blushed happily and Bright Eyes picked her way through the crowds of people to the hospital. She was early, and while she waited, smoked a cigarette with impatience. The night's recurring dreams about Spot, made her long for him and she wanted to find out his condition.  
  
Finally at 9:00, visiting hours began. She ran through the door at a fast pace and rushed to the front desk before the other visitors could even stand up. "Hey lady? Is dat kid wit' da head injury any betta? 'Cause I need ta see 'im!" The nurse looked up then looked back down at her paper. "Head injury eh. Boy, sandy hair, about 16 or 17 years of age?" Bright Eyes' sighed with relief. "Yeah dats Spot. Can I see 'im?" The lady smiled and consulted her paper again. "Yes, but not for too long. He wasn't hurt terribly but he does need rest." Bright Eyes grinned her thanks as the lady told her the room number, and she dashed down the halls, her shoes squeaking on the tile floor as she ran.  
  
She skidded to a stop outside her friends room and knocked. "Yeah whaddya want?" An angry sounding voice resounded within. Bright Eyes opened the door cautiously and looked around the corner before she spoke. "Easy Spot. Came ta see ya an' dis is da danks I get. Huh, might as well go right back home an' sell papes." Then she made a motion to close the door, until a cry came from Spot. "No don't go Bright! I'm sorry. I tought you were dat nurse come ta give me more meducine or whateva dat stuff is. Whateva it is its horrible!"   
  
Bright Eyes walked over to her friends bed and sat in the chair next to it. "How are ya Spot?" Spot shrugged. "Been betta. How's da udda boys?" "Oh, deys healin' up fine. Mush, Davey, Skittery, an' Snipeshoota got out da udda day. An' Race an' Jack is gonna get out teday. Along wit' some of da udda boys." Spot relaxed visibly upon hearing his friends conditions. "Well dats good. One ting 'bout us Newsies is we's fightas! No paper nor anyone else can take dat away from us Bright, neva!" Spot said as he pounded the bed covers. "How's yer head?" Bright Eyes questioned, to which Spot rolled his eyes and pointed to the large bandages wrapped around his head like a turban. "I'd be betta if dey'd get dis fly net off me! Geez! Don't dey see dat stuff dat weighs yer head back onta da pilla is gonna hoit ya even more? Guess not."   
  
Then Spot pretended that his head was weighed down immensely by the bandages and plopped down on the pillow with a resounding thump. Bright Eyes laughed, and Spot smiled a little before he winced in pain. "I jest wanna git outta here. I don't like bein' left behind everyone else. I hate dat. When can I got home Bright? I wanna go home ta Brooklyn an' sell da papes." Spot said stubbornly.   
  
"I dunno Spot. Soon though I tink. Da nurse said so." Then a knock was heard on the door and it opened to reveal the doctor waiting expectantly. Bright Eyes stood up as Spot glared at the man icily. "I guess dat I had betta go." Spot grabbed her hand insistently. "I don't want ya ta go! He tinks dat I'm some kinda toy da way he sticks needles an' stuff in me!"   
  
Bright Eyes gently pulled her arm out of the Brooklyn leader's grasp. "Hey Spot, I'll be back sooner dan ya realize. An' you'll be out soon too. Just keep yer temper down, an' don't give da docta any trouble ya hea?" Spot rolled his eyes but stretched out his arm to the doctor reluctantly and waited for the shot. The doctor stopped Bright Eyes as she walked by and whispered, "Thank you very much." Bright Eyes smiled and patted the doctors hand. " Jest gotta know how ta handle him doc." "Hey could we get dis ova wit' please?" Spot yelled and Bright Eyes snuck out of the room.  
  
  
  



	7. The Aftermath

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Three months later, it seemed to the boys that things were finally back to normal. Jack's leg still gave him trouble with a twinge of pain when he ran around, but nothing that the Newsie couldn't handle. The same thing was true with Racetrack and his arm. Now that his right arm wasn't what it was, when fighting he now favored his left arm more than the former. David's parents had decided after the incident that he could only sell on either holiday's or another occasion, and only when they said so. Bright Eyes hadn't had anymore encounters with Pulitzer, which suited her fine. Spot hadn't had any trouble with his head so far, and was sincerely glad of it. As he told Bright Eyes, "I gots ta take care of me boys. An' me boys got papes ta sell. An' I ain't about ta let some stupid headache bring me down!"   
  
Bright Eyes felt so confident about never having to see Pulitzer again, that she didn't tense up anymore when she saw his carriage pull away from the World building. 'He cain't hoit me! He was neva gonna get me fadda! He's a lya! Like he's gonna own ta dat, an' like I's gonna go an' correct 'im. I gots me life right where I wants it, an' he ain't gonna try an' change it again!' She thought confidently.  
  
Bright Eyes woke up one day with a thrill just to be alive. It was on these mornings that most of the boys who grumbled about getting up, would receive a friendly lecture on how wonderful it was that they even were up! To this they would grumble, but would be silent afterwards. "Beautiful day 'eh Race?" Racetrack scrubbed his face absentmindedly with a towel and tossed to her. "Yeah I guess. Seen betta, but whateva you say Brighty."   
  
Bright Eyes whirled through her sanitaries and bought two hundred papers, much to the surprise of her friends. "But Bright, hows ya gonna sell all of 'em? You'll be eatin' paper sandwiches fer dinner!" Mush protested. "Naw, I'll sell 'em! Got a hot sellin' spot teday! She then shouldered her papers and walked off whistling. Kid Blink shook his head. "Man, I hate it when she acts like dis. Den sometin' happens to her an' she's da saddest ting in da woild." "Well ya cain't 'spect her ta be gloomy all da time! What would 'appen ta us if she was? Huh?" Jack protested to which all the boys murmured their reluctant agreement.  
  
Bright Eyes headed toward her selling spot with a song in her heart and a song spilling out of her lips in a warbling whistle. In no time at all, one hundred and fifty of the papers were gone. "Allrighty! Fifty more papers to go!" Bright Eyes chirped to herself. Just then when Bright Eyes glanced up to yell the next headline, she saw a face in the crowd that made her choke on her words. The eyes of the person bored into her causing her to stare in horror at the face. The face was gaunt, the brown-red hair straggly, the blue eyes wide. Bright Eyes fell to the ground, shuffled her papers together and ran off toward the safety of the Lodging House. The man smiled and made his way through the crowd in the opposite direction.  
  
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At around 7:00, Bright Eyes emerged from the Lodging House and silently made her way to Tibby's. The boys were there laughing and talking loudly. Racetrack's brown eyes made their way to hers, and she blushed and ducked into the booth. "So Bright, ya sell all dem papes?" Mush asked, laughing. Bright Eyes stirred the water that the waiter set in front of her. "Got fifty left." She remarked solemnly. Mush and Kid Blink began to laugh hysterically and Jack groaned, but pulled out two bits from his pocket and flipped it to the boys. "You guys bet on me!" Bright Eyes voice lifted in pitch as she spoke, silencing the boy's laughter. "You bet on me?!" She pushed herself out of the booth, threw the restaurant door open and slammed it with a large bang and jingling of the bells hanging from it. Uncomfortable silence reigned over the restaurant. Racetrack slid out of his seat and walked out the door after her. "Way ta go you guys." Jack said reproachfully.  
  
Racetrack followed Bright Eyes all the way down to Central Park, where she threw herself down on a park bench and held her head in her hands. Racetrack slowed his run to a walk as he approached the figure on the bench. "So, didn't have a good day?" He asked amiably. "Just go away Race. I don't wanna talk right now." Bright Eyes' voice was muffled by her hands as she spoke dismally. Racetrack sighed and sat down on the bench beside the girl, patting her on the back. "Da guys didn't wanna hoit ya you know. Dey was jest havin' a little fun."  
  
"Well it wasn't fun to me. It was mean." Bright Eyes' said desolately. "I know, I know. Ya wanna tell me whats bodderin' ya Bright?" Racetrack asked quietly. Bright Eyes sat up and stared at her hands. "What makes ya tink sometin's wrong? Nothin's wrong wit me." Racetrack smiled and coughed. "Yeah, I can tell. You've been real edgy since da rally, always runnin' off fer some reason too. Not comin' back fer hours on end." Bright Eyes glanced at Racetrack nervously. "You noticed when I left? I didn't think anyone knew." Racetrack smiled. "Yeah well, dere's a lot of tings I notice. I got worried 'bout ya. I had no choice in my opinion. Whats da matta Bright? How can I help?" Racetrack asked softly, gazing into the girl's eyes.  
  
"Dere's nothin' you can do Race. Dis is one ting I need ta suffa alone." Bright Eyes stood up and patted Racetrack's back affectionately. "Danks though." She remarked wanly. Then she walked off into the night, leaving Racetrack alone and frustrated that he hadn't been able to find out what was wrong with her. After a few moments of thought, he slid off of the bench and began to make his way back to the Lodging House, pondering everything Bright Eyes had said.  
  
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That night in the Lodging House saw Racetrack in a deep sleep, exhaustion from the day's labor taking over. But the familiar desire for thirst awoke him and he grumbled as he tripped and stumbled his way to the water pump. He gave the handle a good yank and as the water spouted out, held his hands under it to serve as a cup. After he finished drinking, he heard noises coming from the top of the stairs. Thinking that it was just the rats that unfortunately shared the building with the boys, he began to make his way back to his bed. But again the sounds ensued, making the boy curious. He made his way to the top of the stairs and listened. There was no sound.   
  
Racetrack scoffed at himself and began to shuffle back toward the bunkbeds. "Stop! Please!" A female voice called desperately. Racetrack stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly. He had heard of ghosts, and knew to move slowly and then they wouldn't think that you were trying to hurt them or trying to run or something. When no ghostly apparition appeared, Racetrack tiptoed over to Bright Eyes' door, which was the only room by the stairwell. He pressed his ear to the door and listened. The plea's were coming from the inside of the depths of the room.   
  
Racetrack slowly eased the door open and peered inside. By the light of the moon that streamed in through the window, Racetrack could make out the small form of Bright Eyes on the bed. She was hugging her arms and rocking back in forth as if comforting herself. Racetrack walked over to her and touched her arm. She did not respond. He then sat on the bed cautiously. "Whats da matta?" When Racetrack asked Bright Eyes the question, he glanced at her eyes.   
  
They were glazed over and totally unseeing. "She's sleepin'." he murmured. "I'm hidin'." The girl's answer was as blank and dull sounding as her face. "Whatcha hidin' fer?" Racetrack asked. "I's hidin' from me father. He's gonna hoit me. He already hoit me momma. Angela's dead. I ain't got no one else now. He's gonna find me an' take me away." Racetrack blinked in surprise at the small speech given by the comatose girl. He had no idea who Angela was, or where her father could be, but he knew that he must reassure her, even though she was asleep.   
  
"Hey Bright, dere's nothin' ta worry 'bout. I'll take care of ya's. Yer dad cain't find ya here. Why don't ya wake up?" At that moment, Bright Eyes turned at gazed at Racetrack. In the day, her eyes would've sparkled with life, but now, they were dead, and almost black, things that made Racetrack shiver as he gazed at her. "Me names' not Bright. Its Shailagh. I don't know a Bright. An' I don't wanna wake up! If I wake up, I'll find everything back the way it was! Daddy will find me, an' he'll beat me to a pulp till I die, I know it! Don't wake me up!" Bright Eyes' voice rose in panic at the prospect of meeting her father again and she began to cry. "Don't wake me up! Please don't wake me up!" She cried and cried that phrase over and over as Racetrack tried to get a hold of her so that he could shake this nightmare away from her.   
  
Finally, he managed to grasp her convulsing shoulders and pulled her into his chest, hugging her as if he couldn't ever let go. She sobbed and put her arms around his neck like a child on her father's lap. Gradually, Bright Eyes grew quieter and quieter, until her sobs were obliterated completely and her hands that were a few minutes ago clasped tightly around Racetrack's neck, loosened and dropped slightly. Racetrack eased her off of his chest and laid her back on to her pillows, smoothing her ruffled hair and pulling the covers up to her chin gently. "Don't leave me." The plaintive remark struck Racetrack in his heart as he pulled up the girl's covers. He sat down in the rocking chair by Bright Eyes' bed and began to rock, slowly. "I won't eva leave ya Bright. Neva, neva, neva." Racetrack whispered softly.  
  
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The next day when Racetrack awoke, he found himself back in his own bed. Thinking it had all been a dream, he walked over to Bright Eyes' door and looked in. The bed was unmade, the covers twisted around each other. He turned and suddenly saw Bright Eyes making her way down the stairs. He gave a sigh of relief and headed over to the washing pump. "Hey Race, ya ok?" Jack asked, in a concerned voice that made Racetrack confused. "Whaddya mean Cowboy? I's fit as a fiddle." Jack's eyebrows were suddenly knit, in a baffled manner. "But, you was in Bright Eyes' room in da rockin' chair. You was mutterin' in yer sleep. I took ya back ta bed last night. You sure yer ok?" Racetrack gazed at his friend, finally comprehending the reason for his return to his bed.  
  
"Hey Cowboy, did Bright act a little strange dis mawnin'?" Jack splashed his face with water as he thought hard. "Well, jest a little. A little bit of her usual mawnin' spawk was gone dats all. I figured dat she didn't have a good night sleep or sometin'." Racetrack nodded and walked toward the stairs. "I gotta find her. Let me know if ya see her 'kay Cowboy?" Jack saluted and grinned. Racetrack ran down the stairs two at a time, trying to get to the Distribution booth hoping that he could catch Bright Eyes before she left. Several boys called out greetings to Racetrack as he approached the booth. "Hey Skits! Ya seen Bright?"   
  
Skittery turned, his face still merry with laughter of a friend's previous joke. "No, she ain't been here yet. I was gonna ask you an' Cowboy if she was wit' you." Racetrack frowned. "She ain't wid us. You sure you ain't seen her?" Skittery nodded slowly, the grin evolving into a thoughtful frown. "Well don't worry I'll find her!" Racetrack yelled as he dashed down the street. But Racetrack did not find her. He searched all the haunts that she visited in Manhattan. Then he decided to see if the Brooklyn leader, Spot Conlon, had seen his friend.  
  
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Bright Eyes ran up the steps, pounded on the door, but didn't wait for an answer and ran in through the door, practically bowling over Seitz on his way to answer it. "Miss, Miss! Don't go into Mister Pulitzer's study! Miss!" Seitz yelled helplessly as Bright Eyes ran upstairs to the study. She pushed the door open violently and stood in the room gasping as she looked at its occupants. Pulitzer was there, accompanied by, her father? The man had her fathers' face, eyes, complexion, even down to the scruffy beginnings of a beard on his chin. They both turned, astonished. Pulitzer was the first one to speak, or rather, splutter. "What on earth are you doing here without a proper entrance?!"   
  
"Maybe I should burst in more often. I seem to find out more when I do." Bright Eyes panted, her eyes narrowing. Pulitzer frowned. "Well its just as well. I was going to summon you anyway. I have some more business for you to attend to." Bright Eyes rolled her eyes and headed toward the door, before a rough Irish voice stopped her. "Don't take anotha step toward that door, or you'll regret it me girl." Bright Eyes' hand dropped from the doorknob immediately. "Thats better. You can leave us Mr. O'Connor."   
  
With that, the burly man walked out of the room, his shoulder brushed up against Bright Eyes and making her shiver. "Now Bright Eyes, this is the last thing I want you to do. I want for you to leave Manhattan." Bright Eyes' eyes widened in shock and her mouth formed words that she couldn't speak. "Let me finish. I don't want you to leave for a week or a day or a month. But forever. Tomorrow, you can go." Bright Eyes eyes' flashed. "Who are you to tell me to leave? I have my rights an' I don't hafta leave my home!"   
  
Pulitzer sighed dismally. "Oscar, Morris." At the command, the Delancy brothers sauntered through the door, winking at Bright Eyes as they went. "Go and hurt permanently the Newsie they call Racetrack. Do you know him?" Oscar grinned. "Oh we know him. Kinda've a smart aleck kid. Good friend of Cowboy's too. Yer wish is my command." Bright Eyes' face paled. "No! I'll do it. I'll do it, just don't hoit Race." Bright Eyes said softly. "Awwww! Ain't dat sweet!" Morris scoffed.  
  
Pulitzer smiled triumphantly. "I'll send you your ticket tomorrow at your selling spot. You'll leave at midnight tomorrow. You can go." Bright Eyes walked toward the door, then stopped and turned to Pulitzer. "One question foist Joe. Why are ya doin' dis? What did I eva do to ya?" Pulitzer's face hardened and he crunched a piece of paper in his hands.   
  
"What did you do? What all your friends did to me. They took something more away than their victory and their tenth of a cent. They took my pride, as a newspaper man. They publicly humiliated me in front of all the other newspapers in New York. Do you know what its like to be humiliated in front of all those you tried so hard to make your allies and friends? No, you don't and you never will. Thats something that neither you or them can ever pay me back for. I'm hoping with this small action of my own, they will see and feel the pain that I felt and still feel. Now go."   
  
Bright Eyes stared into the old man's eyes for but a minute and turned as she spoke. "Ya know Joe, somebody took sometin' away from me I loved more dan anytin' too. The hard life of da street took me whole family. All of 'em. Me fadda ta drink, and me mudda an' sista ta death. Guess dats one ting dat we got in common. We both lost what we loved da most." The door closed gently behind her, leaving Pulitzer alone.  
  
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Bright Eyes slammed the door behind her and slumped up against the wall of the house, her hand on her face. 'Leave New Yawk? I've neva left New Yawk its my home. I cain't leave! An' if I don't, Race and da udda boys will get hoit. What am I gonna do? What have I done?' Bright Eyes though with a groan. "Awww, don't hurt Race! I'll do whatever you say but don't hurt Race! Ain't dat sweet Morris?" Oscar's sneering voice remarked. "Yeah, so sweet an' generous to dat poor street rat!" Morris put in. Oscar slumped up against the wall beside Bright Eyes, who turned away in disgust. "Poor Bright Eyes. Has ta leave New York fer good. An' poor Race. Don't ya love dat guy?" Bright Eyes whirled around to face Oscar, who smiled devilishly.   
  
"Jest leave me an' Race alone alright Osca!" Oscar's hand caught Bright Eyes' fist as it raised to smack his face. "Cool down Bright! Dat guy ain't worth savin' or lovin' for dat matta. Did ya know what he did when he was in the refuge a couple of years ago?" Bright Eyes' fist lowered and she rolled her eyes. "Don't start Osca! All dat happened was he got caught gamblin'! Dats all! Dats it!" Oscar grinned and glanced at Morris. "Yeah, thats what you got told. By Racetrack right? Well I know the truth, and whether you want to or not, you are gonna hear it. The real reason why he was in there, he was drunk an' he was roughin' up people. One guy almost got killed." Bright Eyes' face remained expressionless, but her eyes blazed, much to Oscar's delight. "Don't say dat, he's neva touched too much beer in his life! He told me so! He said dat he'd neva touch too much of dat stuff 'cause it ruined his pop! I believe him!"  
  
Oscar sighed and put his arm around Bright Eyes. "Sweet face, did he tell you that himself? Because I was there, an' was one of the guys he roughed up. See dis scar? He did that. You believe me now?" As he spoke Oscar pulled up his shirt sleeve to reveal a long scar running up half of the length of his arm. Bright Eyes shrunk back from the boy, disbelief written all over her face. "I gotta go!" Bright Eyes ran off into the night.   
  
Oscar rolled his sleeve back down as Morris watched. "She'll neva believe you Oscar. You got that from Pop that one night when he was drunk. You know as well as I do that Race hasn't ever drank too much!" Oscar smirked. "Frankly Morris, I don't think she knows what to believe anymore." He patted his brother's arm and the two walked back inside Pulitzer's house, Oscar congratulating himself, and Morris listening to his brother in silent admiration.  
  
Bright Eyes' hurried entrance into the Lodging House was unexpected. Boys looked up in surprise as she whirled by them and up the stairs to the bedroom. Jack saw her and walked up after her. When he found her, Bright Eyes was lying on her bed sobbing and clutching the pillow protectively to her chest. "Hey, hey. Whats dis? Huh? Whats goin' on? What happened? Ya hoit or sometin'?" Jack asked as he patted Bright Eyes' head. "Nothin's wrong. I jest, nothin's wrong." Bright Eyes hiccuped. "Oh I see. Jest cryin' fer da sake of it." Jack commented. "Yeah sometin' like dat." Bright Eyes said as she buried her head back into the pillow.   
  
"Now come on Bright. I know ya too well ta fall fer dat. Whats wrong?" Jack asked, concerned. Bright Eyes then sat up as she rubbed her red eyes and brushed the tears away. "Jest one question Jack. Has Race eva drunk too much, so much dat he hoit someone?" She asked hesitantly. Jack sat still, thinking. "I dunno. He tol' me dat he neva drank too much. An' I trust him. He's my friend. Why? Don't you trust him?" Bright Eyes gazed at Jack momentarily, then dropped her head back on the bed. "I don't know anymore Jack. I don't know who to trust anymore."   
  
Bright Eyes suddenly stood up, straightened her clothes and began to walk towards the door, Jack standing up and following her. "Where are ya goin'?" Jack queried. "Gonna go ta Brooklyn. I need ta see some people dere, an' plus it'll give you guys some time widout me." Jack's brow furrowed. "Whaddya mean, 'some time widout ya'? What makes ya tink dat we don't need ya?" Bright Eyes paused at the door of the Lodging House and put her hand up to the boy's face tenderly. "Ya don't. None of ya do. You'll do jest fine widout me. I'll be back in da mawnin', don't ya worry." Jack smiled and held the girl's hand a moment as it withdrew and then let it go as she stepped out the door.  
  
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The sun arose over Brooklyn in a fiery sky. Streaks of orange, red and pink, raced each other to shed the first rays of light on the tallest buildings. Spot Conlon unsprawled himself and stretched, pulling on his dingy white shirt as he did so. As he straightened his wardrobe and ran his hands through his mussy hair, something outside caught his eye. He pulled on his suspenders, opened the window and stepped out on top of the roof. The figure sitting on the edge of the building turned and smiled, patting the place next to her. "Hey Bright." Spot said with a condescending air as he gazed at his childhood friend with admiration. "Hey Spot. Whatcha been up ta?" Spot smiled and gazed over the just now bustling city. "Well I was sleepin' a minute ago, no thanks to you!" Bright Eyes smiled and received the playful punch in her arm with ease.   
  
"I guess da question really is, how are you? I been hearin' dat fate ain't been bein' too kind to ya lately." Spot remarked. "Who told ya, truly? An' don't go beatin' 'round da bush cuz I know dat even though ya got a hard shell, yer as soft as mush on da inside an' care about every boy's well bein'. Now who was it?" Bright Eyes asked in one breath. "Well, it was Race actually." Bright Eyes' mouth dropped as Spot's deathly serious face stared at the buildings. "Race? Ya sure?" Bright Eyes whispered. "Sure as I'm livin'. He was worried 'bout ya. Wanted ta know if you'd been showin' it when ya came here fer a night or two."   
  
"And?" She questioned. "I said no, nothin' new. Why? Dere sometin' I should know about?" Bright Eyes rolled her eyes. "Now don't get all protective on me I can take care of myself." Spot gazed at Bright Eyes, scanning her face. "Is dere sometin' goin' on Bright?" Bright Eyes sighed. "No. Its jest da Delancy's an' dere boys givin' me some trouble dats all." Spot's eyes remained on Bright Eyes, assurances of protection and revenge shining out of them. "Yer a little too concoined fer it ta be da Delancys." Spot said quietly. "Dere's nothin' goin' on alright!" Bright Eyes said, frustration edging her words. Spot threw his hands up in the air. "Fine, fine. One ting I've leained ova da years is neva argue wit' a woman. Usually I tend ta stick ta dat. Unless provoked of course." He said with a grin.  
  
Bright Eyes' smiled faintly and sighed. "Spot, what would ya do, if one of yer best friends left New Yawk an' didn't come back? Would ya pound 'em?" Spot watched Bright Eyes stiffen as she spoke, then took a deep breath. "Well, I dunno Bright. Anybody particular?" Bright Eyes shook her head. "No. No one in particular I guess. Just what would be yer reaction?" This time, it was Spot who straightened the arch in his back and stared out over the awakening city. "Well, I'd be pretty mad dats fer sure I guess. I mean, not really, really mad. Jest hoit more I guess, 'specially if dey didn't tell me dat dey were leavin' an' didn't say goodbye."  
  
Bright Eyes sighed and stood up. "Dats jest what I wanted ta know Spot. Say Spot, ya know dat yer me best friend right? An' dat no one kin eva take yer place right?" Spot nodded and grinned coyly. "Of course I know! I ain't stupid. It ain't like every goil in Brooklyn an' beyond feels da same way ya know!" Bright Eyes laughed, spit into her hand and held it out to the boy, who in turn did the same and recepted it tenderly.   
  
Bright Eyes made her way down the ladder of the fire escape slowly, then paused and looked back up at Spot, who was leaning over the edge of the landing. "I really do appreciate all ya've eva done fer me Spot. I jest want ya ta know dat. Bye Spot." She said, softly. "Bye Bright. See ya lata!" Spot called, not noticing the change in the girl's tone as she spoke. Bright Eyes nodded and quickly climbed down the ladder, Spot's gaze clapped on her as she went. When she vanished out of his line of vision, Spot straightened and rubbed his head. Then he climbed down the ladder, meeting up with his friends in front of the Lodging House.  
  
  
  



	8. Never an Absolution

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Bright Eyes reached her selling spot just as the other boys were spreading out and taking their spots. Racetrack came and patted her on the back as she walked up. "Hey how ya doin' Bright? Got lotsa sellin' ta do teday ya know?" Bright Eyes forced a smile and patted the boy's back softly. "Yeah I know dat. How ya doin'? You look like ya've gotta bad taste in yer mout' or sometin'." Racetrack rolled his eyes and stooped closer to Bright Eyes. "Davey's here fer da weekend, an' he wants ta sell wit' ya." Bright Eyes raised her eyebrows mischievously. "Is dat a problem? Race?" Racetrack lit a cigar and shoved it into his mouth attempting to hide the growing red spots on his cheeks. "It ain't a problem. Its jest, he jest gets on my neives. He's so clean an'as he says 'learned' dat I jest hate it when he comes. Acts like he knows more dan us, which he does. But dat doesn't mean dat he's gotta flounce himself around like a goil wit' new clothes does it?"   
  
"Hey Bright Eyes, Racetrack. Lets get sellin'!" David's voice boomed behind the two. Racetrack clutched his ears mockingly and whispered. "An' I also hate da way he tries ta get an' accent!" Bright Eyes grinned and patted him on the back as he walked away. "So Bright! I haven't seen you in a while eh?" Bright Eyes shrugged. "Guess not." David forced a smile. "Well there was a most interesting chapter in history today, that I thought you might be interested in. It was about King Arthur and his nights and a Round Table." With that, David proceeded to tell the classic story, rather badly into Bright Eyes' ears that on the outside were open, but on the inside, were slammed shut. Inside she was thinking of how to get rid of David, so that she could intercept the ticket that would take her away from her home.  
  
Bright Eyes' question was answered not long after she and David arrived in their selling spot. The girl spotted Oscar sauntering up the street a long way off, and her eyes quickly gazed at her surroundings. Two fruit carts being driven by Italian men, were coming right past her and David. Without warning, she dashed between the two of them, causing them to stop abruptly and crash into each other. David stopped and helped the men pick up the fallen fruits as they yelled at him. Bright Eyes reached Oscar out of breath and furious. "Well I'm hea. Where is it?" Oscar smiled. "Well someone's been workin' out today." Bright Eyes smacked the boy's arm, rage filling her pained eyes. "Jest gimme 'em Osca!" "My, my. Temper, temper. Maybe they should've called ya Fire Head. Here you are, your ticket out of here." Bright Eyes snatched the ticket in Oscar's outstretched hand and ran off. Oscar grinned and smiled to himself. "Well that's one pest gone. And good riddance too."  
  
"Bright Eyes! Bright Eyes! Come help me pick up these fruits that you made these men spill! Bright Eyes!" David yelled as he continued to pick up the fruits, all the while being kicked slightly on the rump by the men on both sides. Bright Eyes stomped to David's side and grasped his collar in her hand. "Listen ta me Mista 'Learned'. I ain't gonna fall fer yer high an' mighty airs and yer school lessons. You can just sit yer educated butt on da ground an' pick up those fruits by yerself. I ain't gonna help ya. I'm gonna sell BY MYSELF! Is dat very clear?" David nodded, astonished by her outburst. Bright Eyes smiled semi-sweetly, shouldered her papers and walked off briskly, leaving David with the two fruit vendors. As he watched her stomp off, he suddenly noticed a small piece of paper clutched in her clenched fist.  
  
  
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Bright Eyes conquered her own obstacle that day. She sold all of the 250 papers that she had bought, earning herself money for the dreaded trip that would take place that night. As she gloomily trudged home, she thought about what was going to happen in the next few hours. She came to the conclusion that she was not going to go through the night as quiet as a mouse and show everyone of her friends her gloomy face. No, she was going to make it the most treasured night of her life. She started by grinning to herself and then whistled an old Irish tune from long ago as she skipped up the stairs of the Lodging House.  
  
"Heya guys! How 'bout some poka? Hey Race, deal da cawds! I'm bettin' tenight!" The boys laughed and spread around the old table in the bedroom, Racetrack shuffling and dealing the cards with a sly grin spread across his face, his "Gambling look" as Bright Eyes called it. Two hours later, all of Bright Eyes' money was gone, but in her last hand, she bet two more dollars. Snipeshooter leaned up to Bright Eyes ear and whispered, "How ya gonna do dat if ya don't have anymore money? I know dat ya don't got anymore!" Bright Eyes smiled cockily and pressed her cards to her chest. " Yeah, but Race don't know dat right? So lets jest say dat I trust me cawds." She winked at the boy as he sat down uncertainly.  
  
Racetrack eased back in his chair with a grin as Bright Eyes made her bet. "Ok Bright. Hows dis? Full House!" Racetrack triumphantly laid his cards on the table with a flourish and lit a cigar. Bright Eyes shook her head in defeat. "Dats good Race, but not dat good." With that she laid down her cards which produced a ripple effect of surprise around the room. "Two pair. Aces." Racetrack's cigar fell out of his mouth in astonishment. Bright Eyes grinned and pulled the pile of money toward her and began to count it. "5 dolla's an' 50 cents. Nice playin' Race." Racetrack groaned and clutched his hat as Kid Blink patted his back comfortingly. The clock in the hall struck ten and the boys stood up and stretched.  
  
"Wait a sec boys! I wants ta sing ya a song dat I heaid a long, long time ago." Snipeshooter moaned. "Is it one of dem sappy Irish love songs? 'Cause if it has anytin' ta do wit' love, I swear I'll kill myself!" Some of the boys agreed in unison, but Racetrack and Jack both told the complainers to 'shut up and listen.' Bright Eyes seated herself in a chair as the boys gathered around her to listen.  
  
Help me my friends help me,  
I've got to go away.  
From the homeland I love,  
To a land far away,  
Beyond the County Cork's shore.  
  
Help me my friends, help me,  
Give me a token to remember you by.  
And don't ever forget me,  
Though I never come back.  
  
How I shall miss,   
This homeland of mine.  
Oh how shall I miss,  
My beloved friends and family.  
But what must be done,  
Must be done,  
And so my friends,  
Remember me.  
  
I'm goin' away for a while my friends,  
But I'll be back someday.  
Never fear, though hell should bar the way,  
I'll be back someday.  
  
  
As Bright Eyes ended the haunting melody, the boys were silent. Jack stared at his shoes and Racetrack looked at Bright Eyes for a moment, but when she turned to meet his gaze, he turned away. The rest of the boys sat quietly, till Crutchy remarked, "Well I'll be. Dats one of da prettiest hymns I've eva heaid ya sing Brighty. Where did ya hear it?" Bright Eyes smiled. "I heaid it when I was a little goil. Me momma sung it to me. Don't remember her, but da song jest stuck wit me all dese years." As she gazed at all the gloomy faces, she laughed. "Well I do believe dat I've spoiled da mood. Let me tell ya a story about the princess Danae."   
  
And she proceeded to captivate her listeners and brought them to the land of Ireland, far away from New York. For but a few moments, the boy's thoughts were not on papers, or hunger, or how they would live the next day. They were captivated with the story, it coming from an experienced tongue. They saw the bright green hills, and heard the elvin call echo through the lush green forests. They saw the beautiful Princess Danae, her waist length red hair flying recklessly in the ocean wind. They were astonished that such things could even be told by a human tongue, to them, it was like a sort of heaven, and when it ended, there were protests all round. "Tell us more Brighty! More! More!" Came the resounding shouts, to which the smiling girl had to comply. At 10:30 though, the story telling came to an end and the bunk beds were filled with boys.  
  
Bright Eyes made rounds that night, saying goodnight to her comrades who all thanked her heartily for the stories. After she said goodnight to Racetrack, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. "Brighty, dose were da most beautiful tings' I've eva heaid. How come ya didn't tell us more of dose till now? Dey was wondaful. All da fairies an' elves an' leprechauns. An' dat story where da elf princess fell in love wit' da leprechaun, I loved dat."   
  
Bright Eyes shrugged. "I don't know why I didn't tell them till now. I just assumed that you boys wouldn't want to hear them. But I'm glad that you liked them." Racetrack smiled his crooked smile that Bright Eyes had so often taken for granted, and she impressed it into her memory so that it would never be forgotten. "Bright? I gotta tell ya sometin'." Bright Eyes held her head up and listened. "Bright, I, well dat is. I tink dat, I love ya." Bright Eyes started. "Don't be mad Bright. I cain't help da way I feels. But I thought dat you should know. And I was wondrin' if ya felt da same way 'bout me?"   
  
Bright Eyes gazed into the boy's eager brown eyes, tears filling her own as she spoke. "Yes. I do love you." Racetrack's grin spread from ear to ear and he grasped her hand and wiped away the tears now falling freely from the girl's eyes. "Hey now, dis ain't supposed ta make ya cry now. Yer supposed ta be happy" Bright Eyes smiled and wiped the tears off her nose. "I know. I am happy. Very, very happy. I gotta go Race." Racetrack gripped her hand for a moment longer then released it as Bright Eyes padded to her room and closed the door softly. He laid his head back on the pillow and breathed a sigh of relief that she felt the same way he did.  
  
When she reached her room, Bright Eye collapsed on the bed, letting the tears drip silently down her cheeks. Then she sat down on her bed, grabbed a pencil and papers, and began to painstakingly write on them. She wrote until 11:05, when she sealed two papers and laid them gently on her bed. Then she began to pack only what was necessary and the things she loved best in her bag. When she finished, she blew out the lamp and stepped out of her door. She set her bag on the stairwell and crept over to the bed that held the snoring Jack Kelly. She lifted up his sweaty hand, kissed it and laid a letter under it. The other letter she placed on the nightstand by Racetrack's bed. She knelt down and gazed at the sleeping boy. Tears dropped from her eyes as she kissed his cheek tenderly and slipped on her plain silver ring of her mother's onto his finger. "Goodbye Racetrack. Don't forget me." She whispered softly.   
  
Then she crept away and stood on the stairway for a moment and blew a kiss to the boys in the room. Then with a deep breath as a soldier going into battle, she shouldered her bag and tiptoed down the stairs and out the door. Down the familiar streets she scuttled, fitting in totally with the street's darkness. She knew that she was taking a dreadful risk of someone seeing her. The dock was in Brooklyn and Spot Conlon was a night owl. She was only a few blocks away when something scared her out of her wits. "Bright? Bright Eyes, dat you?" A male voice called out. At the sound of it, she ran, not caring if it was Spot, or anyone else, just so long as they didn't catch her and ask her where she was going and why.  
  
Red stood in the street, totally confused. He was sure that the girl huddling past him was Bright Eyes, but when he called out, she ran like a cat from a dog. He didn't like that. It wasn't like his comrade to be that skittish. She would've at least acknowledged his presence, but she did not do that at all. "Gotta tell Spot. Maybe he'll know what ta do." The boy murmured as he ran towards Slingshot Way.  
  
Spot Conlon shot another bottle clean through with his marble. He smiled to himself. He loved to win and loved his triumphs, which were many in his mind. But even a hero needs a break, and he felt that he would get one as his friend Red ran up, panting. "Whats da matta wit' ya? Ya bein' chased by somebody? Show me 'em an' I'll knock dere lights out!" Spot was feeling very heroic on this night. "Maybe da full moon's confusin' ya Spot. But I ain't bein' chased. I jest saw Bright Eyes run by here in an awful hurry." Spot Conlon missed his target as the boy spoke. He turned to face Red suspiciously. "Whaddya mean, runnin'?" Red shrugged. "Jest what I mean. I called her name an' she ran fasta dan she was already. She was headin' towards da dock." Spot glanced at the moon and nodded. "Yeah, from da looks of da moon its almost midnight. Dats too late fer even Bright ta be out. Gatha up a few of da boys an' form a scout team. We're gonna check dis out." Red nodded and in an instant fetched Knuckles, Tails, Kicks, Lonny, and Marbles.   
  
The seven boys headed toward the dock, as silent as a lion sneaking up on his prey. Suddenly Lonny called out to Spot, "Spot, she's goin' to a ship!" Spot panicked. "Stay here ya boys! Let me go ahead!" And he ran up the steep rocks near the pier, sometimes falling and scraping his knees before he reached the top. When he reached it, out of breath and panting, he sat down hard at what he saw. What he saw was Bright Eyes turning in a ticket to the ticket master, shouldering her bag and stepping on the gangplank. She stopped before she reached the main deck and turned, surveying her surroundings for a minute, then walking onto the deck and holding onto the railing as the boat pushed off. "No. No, dis cain't be happenin'. No Bright." Spot whispered, tears choking his words as he watched his friend on the ship. Then suddenly on the wind came a familiar voice yelling, "Goodbye New Yawk!" Spot fiercely wiped the tears edging his gray blue eyes as the memories of his friend surged back in small wisps.  
  
"Boy, I was wondering if you could recommend a place to stay?"   
  
"Nope, don't know a place dat would take little goils."   
  
"Is dat hard ta do? Ta sell papers?"   
  
"Not in da least. Ya jest improve da headline a little!"   
  
"'Scuse me hic? I seems ta be lost hic! Can ya point me to da direction of da bar hic? Or maybe me 'ome would be betta. No da bar!"   
  
"Spot don't be silly! Ya ain't drunk!"   
  
"I kin pretend if I wanna Brighty!"   
  
"I gotta help 'em Spot!"   
  
"Listen Bright. I ain't eva seen ya go into hysterics! Don't start now!"   
  
"Ya okay Spot?"   
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Jest beat up. What 'bout you?"   
  
"I'm alright. I miss my momma though."   
  
"Listen Bright, I'll always be da family ya need. I'll always be here."   
  
"Danks Spot."   
  
"No problem."  
  
"Bright Eyes, what have ya done?" Spot whispered. "Can we do anythin' Spot?" Red's voice echoed up the rocks. "No. Nothin' kin be done." Spot choked. Red took off his hat and the others did the same as they waited for Spot. Spot sat on the rocks and waited till the ship was out of his sight. Then he stood and the Brooklyn leader straightened and walked bravely down the rocks to his friends below. "From now on, wheneva anyone askes 'bout a goil named Bright Eyes, tell 'em dat she's not here, she's jest a story. She don't exist." Spot slowly walked back to the Lodging House, leaving the boys to watch the water for a time and then follow his footsteps.  
  
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The next morning found Racetrack awake at rousing time without Kloppman's help. When he sat up dozily, he felt on his nightside table for his cup of water and instead felt paper. He looked down and saw a whole cuban cigar sitting on top of a few pieces of paper. On his hand, was a somewhat familiar silver ring. He stuck the cigar in his mouth and opened the papers, his eyes going wide as he read.  
  
  
Dear Racetrack,  
I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, but if I do not do it now, you and the boys would be in serious trouble. I want you to know that I did say goodbye to you, you were just asleep and therefore could not protest my decision. I also want you to know that this is not your fault, or any of the others' faults. I am doing this of my own decision. The pain in my heart is worse than any physical pain that I have felt because of my having to leave you boys. Enclosed in these papers are the stories I told last night. Now you can have them forever and ever. I do love you very much. I will be back someday.   
Love,  
  
Bright Eyes  
  
  
Racetrack's heart jumped to his throat as he read the letter. He flipped through the pages and made out the fairy stories that were painstakingly written down for her boy's sakes. Racetrack threw the papers on his bed and ran to Bright Eyes' room and opened the door. The bed was unslept in and the room was spotless. Racetrack slumped against the door and at the same time felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Jack standing behind him, his hand holding a piece of paper. "You got one too?" Jack nodded and sighed. "Dere was sometin' wrong wit' her Race. You an' I both knew dat. We gotta respect her decision though, no matta how much we hate it."   
  
Racetrack nodded and turned away from the room and gently closed the door. "Who's dat letta to? You?" Jack opened the letter and showed it to Racetrack. "Its to all of us. She wrote it so dat I could read it out loud to da boys. Are ya ok Race?" Racetrack turned away from Jack and sat down on the stool by one of the boy's beds. "I'll be fine. I jest don't undastand why she would leave, dats all." Jack smiled and sat down next to his friend. "Da fact dat ya like her isn't a factor is it?" Racetrack turned and looked at Jack, surprise written all over his face. "How'd ya know 'bout dat?" Jack grinned and put his arm around his friend's shoulder. "Wouldn't you like ta know? Actually, I jest knew. Da way ya acted an' stuff. I was in love too once upon a time." Racetrack smiled. "Well, ya gonna read dat letta to da boys or not?" Jack returned the smiled and began slapping boy's feet and faces just as Kloppman trudged up the stairs. "Well, this is more like it! I wish you boys would take over more often!" The old man remarked with a satisfactory smile.   
  
After all the boys were awake, Jack told them the news. Some of the boys yelled to Jack to stop fooling, but others remained silent as they read the truth in Jack's eyes. Finally, after they all quieted down, Jack read the letter to the boys and Kloppman. It was similar to Racetrack's letter, only omitting the confession she had enclosed in the latter. As he closed the letter, Jack glanced around the room. Hats were on the floor instead of on heads, hands were folded across their chests. They listened to the news as if hearing a funeral sermon. "Moreova, don't worry 'bout me. I kin take care of myself thanks ta you boys. I'll be back someday. Bright Eyes." Jack closed. "It was a nice letta. I liked it. Always was good at writin' Bright was." Crutchy murmured.   
  
"I jest don't know what I'm gonna do without Bright an' her advise. She always did have good advice. Even if I didn't always follow it." Snipeshooter said, blushing. "Dats it! Don't tink 'bout her leavin'! Tink about da good times all of ya's had wit' her. An' wheneva yer sad, tink 'bout good times." Jack called out as the boys began to share their experiences with Bright Eyes. They did this all day, and the next and the next day. To the boys, the letter was a prophecy. Each boy thought about the girl and the letter, each hoping that someday the promise at the end of it would be fulfilled.   
  
  
To be continued......................................................................................................................  
  
  
  
  



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